


When the Plum Blossoms Bloom

by gixi_ninja



Series: Under the Dragon's Claw [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient China, Angst, Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Character(s), Original Slash, Politics, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Sexual Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 74,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6574714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gixi_ninja/pseuds/gixi_ninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having escaped death and rekindled their love, Shun and Lan journey back to Yangnan to find Shun's mother and then to disappear from the entanglements of the court of Jin. However, forces are already in work against them and they may be in too deep.<br/>There are questions that go unanswered. Why did the Grand Duke keep Lan alive? Why was Shun targeted? </p><p>The Kingdom of Jin is on the brink of turmoil. Will they be able to survive the events that are about to unfold?</p><p>NOW COMPLETE</p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4882333/chapters/11193892">Under the Dragon's Claw</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone and welcome to part 2. To new readers, please note that this is volume 2 of Under the Dragon's Claw and the story won't make sense if you haven't read [volume 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4882333/chapters/11193892).
> 
> As I have said before, this story will be updated on a monthly basis. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Big thanks to my beta [Avoliot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Avoliot/pseuds/Avoliot) and of-sevenseas (who I bug endlessly for research!) for all your help!! 
> 
> (Warning: This chapter ends in a cliffhanger of sorts)

Riding behind Shun in the morning sun was a very nice way to admire the broadness of Shun’s shoulders. The sun peeked through the trees and glanced over Shun’s back. Lan’s eyes slid down the outline of Shun’s muscles could be seen with the loose light cotton _hanfu_ he was wearing. He let his eyes flicker close for just a moment. In his mind’s eye he could see the way those muscles lay, tanned and rippled. Perhaps tonight, when the two of them pulled their bedrolls side by side...

“What are you thinking about?”

Lan started. Shun had stopped in front of him, turned around on his horse and was watching him with a raised eyebrow. “We should be paying attention to the road.”

Shun was right. Another journey through the little known cave networks that crisscrossed underneath the mountains and borders between Xu and Jin had seen their arrival in Jin relatively unnoticed. Travellers were common this time of year, in late spring when the weather was good. Huiqing had given them plenty of supplies. When they had finally needed to enter a town on their third day, they tried to keep their story as short and simple as possible. They were brothers, travelling together. An elderly relative in Dongfeng, at Xu’s border was ill and they had been visiting. They were now travelling back to Yangnan. Whether it was their ancestors or the Heavens that were keeping them safe, Lan did not know but no one had questioned them - yet.

With the alliance that had been established between Xu and Jin, there were fewer sentries patrolling the borders. Part of the agreement had been to allow a more free path of trade for merchants of both towns. Jin supplied barrels of salted fish and shrimp into the the landlocked Xu and Xu’s tea merchants were able to bring the pu’er tea the region was so famous for back to Jin. Shun and Lan had been blessedly fortunate to have not encountered any of the border patrol in the first three days of travel. Now, on day five, it would be even less likely that they would run into a troupe of soldiers but they still needed to be alert.

 It didn’t mean Lan had to admit it, though. Lan mock-scowled, and huffed. “I was just thinking of how much like a heavy ox you look,” he said. “All bent over your saddle.”

 Shun snorted. He clicked his tongue and nudged his horse into action. “If I am a heavy ox then what are you? A skinny white - “ He broke off as a wild rabbit suddenly scurried across their path. Shun pointed after it, eyes bright. “Look! Lan! It’s you!”

 Lan’s scowl deepened. Two years Shun’s junior meant that he was born in the year of the rabbit. Lan couldn’t remember when or which of his brothers had decided that ‘skinny white rabbit’ would be a good nickname but it had stuck. “Those born in the year of the rabbit are said to be elegant and graceful,” he said, “Unlike the slow, stubborn -”

 “-stupid ox,” Shun finished with a broad grin.

 “I have never, ever called you stupid.”  Lan rolled his eyes. “An idiot perhaps, but stupidity and idiocy are two different things.”

 “Well, I suppose you are no longer a skinny, white rabbit. You’ve become quite brown.”

Lan looked down at the back of his hand and wrist. Shun was right. A childhood of growing up cooped in studies and libraries, studying for an examination that was to determine the path of his life meant that he had always been pale. Now, the sun had kissed his skin a light golden brown. Lan’s arms hand legs had always been spindly: the fervent way he had tried to avoid all sword practice had guaranteed that. Four years of living in the slave harems, being forced to learn the humiliating dances had put muscle on his limbs. Sparring with Shun had filled them out although he would never be as big or solid as the other man.

Lan drew in a breath and puffed out his chest.  “I wasn’t _always_ smaller than you either - ”

“I remember you were taller than me, once. I think it lasted - all of a week?”

“Just because I hit my growth period earlier…” Lan sank down on his saddle and pulled a face. Shun had started his growth period late - not until he was well over the age of seventeen. Lan remembered two months after his own height was starting to shoot up that Shun suddenly doubled in height  - overnight.  Shun had always been larger in frame. While Lan’s gain in height left him as lanky as a bean pole, Shuns’ shoulders and chest broadened. By the time he was ready to leave for the military exams Shun looked more solid than the walls that surrounded the Cheng family manor.

“Besides, seven months earlier and I would have been born a tiger.”

“Seven months is a long time, little _brown_ rabbit.”

Lan huffed. He wished he had something to throw at Shun’s head so he could wipe the smug smile off the other man’s face. He settled by pulling a another face.

Shun just grinned and nudged his horse ahead of Lan’s again. “You know,” he paused and flashed Lan a wicked grin, “According to the matchmakers, the tiger doesn’t match well with the ox.”

Lan’s cheeks suddenly flushed red hot. He scrubbed at his face with a hand in an attempt to hide the blush. “Who would want to be well matched to an idiot ox?”

Shun’s laugh was his only answer.

They rode in silence under the sun dappled trees. If they made good time, they could expect to reach Yangnan by early afternoon. Behind him, on the saddle, the pigeons Prince Mingyu had gifted them cooed softly. It should have been a be a soothing sound but Lan could not shake off an undercurrent of tension that thrummed through him.

Why had Prince Mingyu thought to give them pigeons?

_They can be very useful to signal for help - if the need arises._

He tried to squash the feeling of apprehension down. Yangnan was more than three days ride from the Capital, he reminded himself. It was a sleepy little farming village and should be from from the attentions of the Royal Palace. All they needed to do was find Yuzheng, leave and disappear to a new life. It should be easy enough.

 Lan turned slightly in the saddle and regarded Shun’s profile. Shun’s shoulders were loose and relaxed. He was looking in the distance with a soft half smile on his face. Shun would be looking forward to going home. Lan remembered Shun’s library and the collection of agricultural books he had bought even though reading was one of the tasks Shun had hated the most when they were boys. 

“What do you want to do, once we find your mother and reach Yangnan?” Lan asked. 

Shun shrugged. “I have a small amount of money saved up. We could go somewhere, buy a plot of land,” He grinned, “My father was a farmer - maybe it will be in my blood to know what to do with soil and plants.” His smile turned wistful. “We could have a cow, maybe even a little flock of chickens…”

Lan had to look away. It was their martial arts _shifu_  who had proposed that Shun study with them and their father had agreed to the idea. Had the young Shun even been asked if he had wanted to be a soldier? Even if Shun had been, he had only been a child. Could have foreseen the implications of such a decision? 

Lan forced a smile on his face as he turned to Shun. “It all sounds rather...peaceful.”

If Shun had not studied with them, had not taken part in the martial arts examinations, he would also not be involved in all this -  Lan’s mess.

Lan felt sick.

“Lan - are you alright?”

Lan let the smile on his face widen. “Of course I’m alright - why wouldn’t I be?” He closed his eyes, tilted his head back towards the sun and tried to will his fingers to loosen their grip on the reins. “We just need to fetch your mother so she can disappear with us.”

“A life without complications and politics,” Shun said. Lan’s gut clenched at the words. A plot of land, a flock of chickens, was that what all Shun really wanted? Had Lan - with all the pride and ambition he had fostered on Shun, stolen that future from him? 

“- although, I know that it isn’t what you really wanted - ”

Lan started. Shun was talking to him again. “I think I have had more than enough of a taste of court politics, _master_ ” he said after a pause. Lan rolled his shoulders back and avoided Shun’s gaze. “A farm, a cow, chickens. I - I think I could give that a try.” He turned to Shun and managed another small smile. “My ancestors were all scholars. I could help you interpret some of those books you have.”

The brilliance of Shun’s grin was reward in itself. He shifted in the saddle and sat up even taller than he had been. “Good. You, me, mother. It will be a good life, Lan, you will see.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to remind Shun what sort of a life Lan was leaving behind. Anything was better. He bit down on the inside of his cheek instead and tried to match Shun’s grin. “I’m looking forward to it.”

 

* * *

  


The sun was just starting to dip down over the distant mountains when they turned down the path that would lead into Yangnan. Lan’s eyes slid past the trail they had clambered up the first time Shun had brought him here. The view in the afternoon sun, how close they had been to each other, how close Shun’s lips had been… Lan felt his cheeks heat up again. Perhaps, once they arrived at Shun’s home, it would not be too much of a risk to spend the night. It had been four days since they had known the comforts of a real bed, after all. Shun’s bed, he remembered was wide enough for the both of them to sleep back to back with an additional rolled up quilt between them. It would be even more spacious without the separating barrier of that quilt, or, even clothes. Here, in the north, the evenings were still cool enough that they might be able to lie, arms wrapped around each other in the night.

“What’s that?”

Lan pulled back on the reins of his horse, coming to a stop behind Shun.  He was pointing to a small mound of black fur in the distance, by the side of the road. It looked like a small animal that was asleep. Lan let his eyes trace over the form: a long tail, two pointed ears…

Shun had already dismounted. He was walking - then running up to the creature.

Lan slid off his horse. A strangled sound emerged from Shun’s throat - half gasp, half sob. 

“ _Yao -_?” 

Closer, now, Lan could see that the animal was not asleep. Curled up on its side, it’s eyes were cloudy and stared out to nothingness. Its limbs were stiff with rigor mortis - clearly dead for at least a day.  A black cat. Yao was a black cat. He had been the half drowned black kitten Shun had rescued fifteen years ago when they were both just boys.

Lan reached out a hand and placed it tentatively on Shun’s shoulder. “There likely are many black cats in the village. We should go home - how do you know this is Yao? In any case - ”

Lan stopped. To say that Yao would be at least sixteen this year and old was on the tip of his tongue but his eye caught sight of something else. Lan’s stomach turned. A perfect, round, puncture wound lay just above the cat’s belly. A arrow, or perhaps the pointed tip of a spear?

Shun reached out and touched the dead cat’s neck. “A black cat with a red ribbon collar? There would be two of the same in the village?”

That was also true. Lan put his hand on Shun’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he said. Shun didnt move. Lan gave it another squeeze. “Shun we should go.” 

“I want to bury him,” Shun said.

Lan looked around. They had no shovels and the sun was dipping southward. “We should go to Yangnan,” he said again. “If Yao is here - we need to make sure you mother is safe.”

Shun shrugged hard enough to dislodge Lan’s hand. Silently, he bowed forward, hands pulling at the grass and then scrabbling at the dirt next to the body of the cat. His face was pale and his jaw clenched into a hard knot.

“Shun,” Lan said. Shun did not answer.

Lan bit his lip turned around. The forest around them was bathed in the orange hues of sunset. Without a shovel even if he knelt and helped, Shun, how much longer would it take? His eyes spied a tightly rolled blanket, tied to the back of his saddle.

“Shun - “ Lan reached out a tentative hand towards the other man. “The road here is lonely and the nights - cold. If we bury Yao here, who would come, who would remember him? Why don’t we take his body with us - in one of the blankets? We will sleep in your house tonight, anyway.”

He remembered - Yao, the older black cat slow and full of the table scraps the cook had tossed to him, curling to sleep in the kitchen courtyard. “There is a tree, in the courtyard of your kitchen where he liked to sleep. Shall we bury him there?”

Shun paused, hands half buried in the dirt. He let out a breath and and rolled back on his heels. A grunt and a sharp nod. Lan allowed himself a sigh of relief. Together, they rolled the remains of the cat in one of the blankets they had used to camp and tied it securely to Shun’s saddle.

Lan followed Shun as the other man nudged his horse to turn towards Yangnan. His eyes glanced over Shun’s dusty hands, the dirt that had crept underneath Shun’s nails and the hint of a black tail that peeked out between the blankets. The cat had an arrow wound in its belly - an arrow that had been subsequently pulled out. Who would do such a thing?

Why?

What would they find in Yangnan?

The sky had faded from gold to blue by the time they reached Yangnan. A large village in the late spring evening should have been bustling evening markets and families preparing for the evening meal. It was dead quiet. Only the light emerging from cracks in the doorways and windows confirmed that there was still people living there at all.

Another icy trickle of unease slid down Lan’s spine. He glanced again at the bundle tied behind Shun’s saddle and tried to keep his eyes on the path ahead. The last time they had entered Yangnan, Shun had received a hero’s welcome. Why were now there no one on the streets?

“I cannot expect everyone to come and greet me every time,” Shun’s voice was low and despite the attempt at lightness in the other man’s voice and the smile that flickered on Shun’s face, Lan could not miss how stiff Shun now held his shoulders. “It is becoming late, everyone is probably eating with their families.”

“Of course not.” Lan nodded and then added with shrug. “You can’t win a war just before you come back home every time.” The evening breeze that drifted past them was warm. Why was there not a window open?  There! In the distance, above a herbalist’s shop, a window swung open and face appeared for a brief moment. It slammed shut as they rode past.  The pigeons behind Lan cooed. He shivered again and turned his head towards the hill beyond the end of the village. In the distance, he could not yet make out any lights from that direction.

Was Yuzheng there?  


The moon was up by the time they rode to the doors of the Wei family manor. It was dark, and too quiet.

The first thing that caught Lan’s eyes were the drapes of white. They covered the main gate and were looped through the eaves that sloped down over the outer walls. Lan stopped suddenly, dread unfurling within him as he looked up, mouth slightly open at the sight of it. It was all white. White was the colour of death and mourning.

When they got closer, they saw the second thing. It was small yellow speck at first and as they drew near - a cross. Pasted to the front gates two strips of paper to form a cross in royal yellow. Words were scrawled across them in thick, black ink.

_Entry is forbidden._

Shun stopped beside him. “What…?” 

Blood pounded in Lan’s head. He had seen that cross before. It had been the dead of the night but the moonlight had glanced off that yellow cross, making it look as if glowed in the darkness. Lan’s arms had been bound behind him. He was surrounded by the City Guard. The cross was all he could see as the captain of the City Guard’s voice rang out, listing his family’s alleged crimes. His ears rang with the memory of the wailing.

A scream interrupted his thoughts. Lan spun around.  From the side of one of the walls a figure dressed head to toe in the mourning robes of white hemp stared at them, one arm raised. It was Meiyu, a member of Shun’s old kitchen staff. Her face was stark white. She was pointing to Shun.

“G-General?” she said, “You - aren’t you dead?”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little earlier than expected! Hope everyone enjoys this.
> 
> Please note, this chapter also ends in a cliffhanger, however there shouldn't be another for a while after this one!

Meiyu lived with her brother Feng in a mud brick cottage on the outskirts of Yangnan. It was a simple dwelling with one large room, two paper covered windows, a large stove and two bamboo mats on one side for sleeping. One single oil lamp lit the space.

 Lan sat beside Shun. If Meiyu and Feng had noticed that Lan no longer wore a slave’s brade, neither of them made any comment. Shun remembered very little of what happened after they arrived at his - his _former_ \- manor house. The cross pasted on the door in bold imperial yellow burned in his memory. His household - empty, his mother - gone.

Yao was also gone. The fiesty black kitten he had affectionately named ‘demon’. The kitten that he had managed to pull out of the river when he was fifteen. The cat who had somehow snuck into his pack when he left for the borders as a lieutenant and whose excellent mousing skills had the kitchen staff grudgingly accept his presence even in his old age. His cat was dead. His cat had been murdered. Who would do such a thing?

Shun remembered a shovel being pressed into his palm. Pale fingers had patted the top of his hand before they moved away - Lan or Meiyu? He couldn’t not remember the face. They had dug a hole for Yao, on the side of the road, halfway between his old home and Meiyu’s house. Shun had not been able to bear to unwrap the cat and so they had put him in the ground, blanket and all. A black furry tail still peeked out of the side. How much pain had Yao been in before he died? Shun’s throat felt suddenly tight.

“My Lord-General? Is something wrong?”

Shun looked up. Three pairs of eyes were staring at him. Meiyu stood, one pale, plump arm frozen in the air, holding a ladel full of soup the other hand halfway to reaching for a bowl. He forced a smile.

“I - I am alright. It has been a day full of - surprises.”

“And shocks too,” Meiyu sniffed and placed a bowl of cabbage noodle soup in front of Shun. Under the table, Lan’s fingers found his knee and gave it a light squeeze.

“To be honest, we really thought you were dead.” Feng’s face was weatherbeaten from the sun and small lines were starting to form in the corners of his eyes. Also plump and round, he otherwise looked almost exactly like his sister. “When the messengers came with the announcement…”

 “The Lady Yuzheng didn’t think you were dead,” Meiyu said. She served her brother and then placed another bowl in front of Lan. “She demanded to see your body and then, when she was told it was not able to be retrieved, she demanded a royal investigation into the matter.”

 “It was not until a month after the news of your death reached us that she finally allowed the household to hang up the white ribbons of mourning,” Feng said.

 Beside him, Lan grew very still. Shun’s hand tightened around the pair of chopsticks he was holding. A month. He had spent a little over two weeks in Xu recovering after his injury. The journey from Xu to Yangnan took about a week. A whole month ago - Shun had not even reached the Tiaohu pass.

“I see,” he said slowly. He took a breath in a forced himself to drink a spoonful of soup. “Then, what happened after that? Where is my mother?”

Meiyu bit her lip and glanced at Feng. “Your...mother…”

“My house is empty and there is an imperial seal that forbids entry - ” He felt Lan’s fingers on his knee again. Shun reminded himself to breathe. “ What happened to my mother?”

“The royal messengers came again yesterday,” Feng finally said. The light of the lamp flickered, casting shadows across his face as he spoke. “They spoke of - treason. That you had committed it, that your mother had colluded in it and they arrested her and sealed up the household.”

 “ _What?_ ” The top of the table was hard under Shun’s palms. It felt like his chest was on fire. There was a pounding in his ears. Shun let out a slow breath and forced his shaking fingers to still. When had he moved to stand?

“You have taken a great risk in having us here tonight then,” Lan’s voice cut through the red fog that threatened to overtake his brain. “The punishment for anyone who harbours or offers shelter to a traitor is also harsh.”

“Your lord General and the Lady Yuzheng were always good to us. When taxes were raised, they chose to supplement with their own income.” Meiyu said. “It is only right - ”

“Besides, the General - or the good Lady Yuzheng - a traitor?” Feng shook his head. “I don’t know how anyone could believe such a thing. I am sure it is just a misunderstanding of some sort.”

Something tugged at the side of his hanfu. Shun looked down and across to Lan and realised he was still standing. He flushed, and sat down. “Where is she now then? Is she to be judged by the local magistrate?”

“She…” Meiyu looked over to her brother who shook his head. 

“They did not say - ”

“She would have been taken to the capital.” Lan looked as white as the ribbons of mourning had been hanging from his manor’s gates. His soup was untouched and his hands were hidden under the top of the table. “Treason is a national offense and she will be judged under the supervision of the king himself, although he would likely appoint a delegate to oversee most of presentation of evidence, and the trial itself.”

Of course, the Capital. Shun picked up his spoon and forced it into the bowl of soup. “We will leave, then, for the Capital.”

“And then what?” Lan moved his hands to the table top. They were clenched into hard little fists. “Your mother will be held in the highest security of prisons if that is her charge. Are you going to storm  and break in yourself, my lord General?”

“She is my _mother_.” Incredulity flared inside Shun. His head twisted around to face Lan. “What, are you suggesting, that we leave her there?”

Lan’s eyes flickered up to meet Shun’s and then he looked away. His hands had moved to grip the edge of the table.

 “Per-perhaps if you have other friends…?” Feng’s voice was soft as it cut through the silence.

Beside him, Lan closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Yes,” he said. “We - do you have a scrap of paper and something to write with? Those pigeons that we carry have been trained to take messages.”

That didn’t make any sense. “But they will take those messages to Xu!” Shun said, “Would your friend - the Prince - come and meddle with the affairs of Jin? Surely he knows that would cause war.”

Lan was refusing to meet his eyes. A cold trickle of unease moved down Shun’s spine. “We need to save my mother - you agree, Lan...don’t you?”

It seemed to take forever before Lan spoke. “Yes,” he said. He looked down at his lap and still refused to meet Shun’s eyes. “Yes, we need to save her. I am hoping that these pigeons will go to friends who may be closer to us than Xu.” Finally, Lan lifted his gaze up. He was staring at something.

Friends closer than Xu? What friends? “You are not making any sense.” Shun followed Lan’s line of sight upwards. On a single shelf, well above their table, there was a tiny wooden carving of a single pine tree standing on a mountain. Shun’s brow furrowed. What did Feng and Meiyu’s choice of home decor have to do with all of this?

“It is worth a try, is it not? I am not sure how far messenger pigeons fly - perhaps not all the way back to Xu and Ninth Prince Ming-yu who has gifted us these birds is still the Ninth Prince of Jin. Perhaps he has friends that are closer by?”

Shun snorted. It was well known that Prince Ming-yu rarely left the capital. The young prince preferred a city with gaming rooms and brothels that he could frequent. There was a good reason why, even at the tender age of nineteen, he had earned himself the name _the Wastrel Prince._ “I suppose, we have little choice. I still want to leave for the capital in the morning.”

“No,” Lan said, “We will need to leave for the capital tonight. We rode through the town, Shun,” He picked his spoon and stirred his soup slowly before taking a deliberate bite of his noodles. “There are likely villagers here who are not as sympathetic as good brother Feng and sister Meiyu, here. The longer we stay here, the more risk it is for all of us.”

 Meiyu shook her head. “Travel tonight? When the two of you have travelled so far already today? No - you should stay the night. We have more than enough room for the four of us.”

“Yes,” Feng was nodding his head. “Travel tomorrow morning at sunrise - you will make much better way if you are both still fresh.”

Shun shook his head. Lan was right. He remembered the way the streets of Yangnan had been abandoned. The windows that had slammed shut as they rode past. He forced a smile. “The two of you have been more than generous,” he said. “We do not deserve such hospitality - but Lan is right. I would never forgive myself if we overstayed our visit and put the two of you in danger as well.” Besides, how could he sleep, knowing his own mother was in prison? Was she well? Had she been hurt? He needed to get to the capital as soon as possible. “We will leave after this meal.”

Feng dipped his head. “If that is what my lord General wishes,” he said. He pushed himself to his feet. “Eat then, I will find those things Lan has asked for.”

 The paper ended up being a an old piece of wrapping paper possibly from a purchase at the markets. It was thin, translucent and had been folded already many times as if it had been used again and again. A stick of charcoal, plucked from the fire and plunged into cold water was the closest thing to a writing implement that could be found. Lan smiled and clasped his hands together with a bow of thanks. Shun always marvelled at Lan’s graceful, precise characters. Even on a tiny scrap of paper with such crude tools, he was able to jot down a simple message.

“You buried that cat in one of your blankets.” Meiyu came, with a bundle in her arms. “If you are to sleep outside, you cannot simply just share one blanket. The weather is warm enough and we have a spare.”

“No - no,” Shun shook his head and tried to push the offering away. “You have taken enough risk in having us here. You helped me bury my cat and you fed us. I cannot take you blankets too.”

A warm hand pulled his arm out and shoved the bundled into it. Meiyu smiled as she patted his hand. “Take it. There is plenty of time before winter for us to purchase another.”

 _Purchase._ “I should offer to buy it off you then. There is silver -” Shun thrust the bundle under his arm and tried to reach for his purse but Meiyu’s hand stopped him. 

“We don’t want your money, my lord General. Knowing that the two of you are safe is reward enough for us.” She glanced towards the paper covered window. “If the two of you truly want to leave tonight, you should leave now, while the moon is still up and able to light your way.”

 “We should go,” Lan said. He stood, tucking the slips of paper into the sleeve of his hanfu. “I will send the messages with the birds at sunrise. Pigeons, I understand do not fly as well at night.”

 Shun met Lan’s eyes and then clasped his hands in front of him and bowed low towards his hosts. “Thank you, my friends. I will never forget this great assistance that you have borne me.”

Feng smiled. He and Meiyu and bowed in return. “We wish you a safe journey, my lord General.”

 The last thing Shun’s eyes caught sight of as he left the cottage was the carving of the pine tree, as it sat alone on its shelf on the wall. The flickering lamp light bounced off the tan wood, making it appear as if it was made of gold.

 

* * *

 

They rode until the sky above them lightened and was streaked with pink and the bamboo forest around them filled with bird call. The pigeons, in their cages started cooing again.

“This will be a good time to send our message,” Lan said. They dismounted at the side of the road. Shun watched as Lan slid a scrap of paper from his sleeve. It was rolled tight and pushed into a silver cannister before Lan reached into the cage for a pigeon.

“You have done this before,” Shun said.

The morning light caught Lan’s face as he looked up at Shun. “Yes,” he said. “I was in Xu for four years. You have seen how many pigeons Huiqing keeps?” He dipped his head as his fingers worked to bind the cannister on the pigeon’s claw. “It is a very efficient system. I had hoped that this was something that we could learn from Xu, through the Southern Alliance.”

The Alliance. It was a treaty drawn between Jin, Xu and Rong in times of need. The only reason that the Southern Kingdoms had found victory against the ever ambitious Northern Dali and what Lan and and his father had devoted years of their life to. A thought floated into Shun’s mind. There was something he had once heard about the Southern Alliance. “I thought that the treaty between the three Southern Kingdoms was first proposed by the Grand Duke when he was still Regent,” he said. “That he pioneered it and sent the best officials of Jin as diplomats to Xu and Rong?”

 Lan’s fingers stilled. For a long moment he seemed to be staring out into nothingness. Then, he shook his head. “Yes,” he said, “The Grand Duke personally asked my father change from his position from the Ministry of Justice to be the Ambassador to Xu. A promotion was involved. His Golden Pheasant became a Crane.” Lan paused. In one smooth motion, he tossed the pigeon into the air. There was a flurry of white feathers, and the bird was gone.

 “Father would have agreed to the plan even if there a demotion was involved. The Southern Alliance was the only thing that made sense with the growing threat of the Dali Kingdom. He was asked to be involved just after I finished my Civil Service Examinations. You had left just the Capital, again.” Lan’s eyes glanced up at Shun’s face and then looked down again. His expression was indecipherable. “I thought that it was an important cause - for peace.”

Shun frowned. The Alliance had been a success. Rong and Jin had been the kingdom of Dali’s primary targets. Rong was a peaceful small kingdom nestled in the fertile valleys between Jin and Xu. The people of Rong were largely farmers and merchants and their capital, Haigang was one of the biggest trading ports in all the Four Kingdoms. Rong’s people had been desperate for any assistance in defence. Xu’s situation was more complicated. Xu lay to the south west, divided from both Jin and Dali by the towering Dashan mountain ranges. It was conceivable that if Dali had conquered Jin and Rong, her eyes would haved turned on Xu through the more accessible mountain passes of the south. However Xu’s primary threats remained the raids from the nomadic tribes of the Northwest. There had been much resistance to an Alliance until Lord Cheng’s party had arrived at Xu’s capital, Kejing.

Shun would have thought that it would have been easier for the sea to rise above the clouds than for Lord Cheng to be convicted of treason - until it had happened. Beneath the cotton shirt that covered Lan’s arms Shun could still see with his mind’s eyes the blue ink of a convict slave tattoo.  Shun himself had been ordered to ride into a trap and now his mother -

Shun did not even know if his mother was still alive.

“There’s something here I don’t understand, Lan,” he said. “You have always been so worried about me treating you well - that somehow it would attract the Grand Duke’s attention. Do you know why - ”

 A knife whizzed past Shun’s ear and embedded itself into the tree trunk in front of him. Shun whirled around. His hand had already reached for the sword at his saddle and it slid smoothly out of its sheath as he turned.  Figures surrounded them, each one holding a sword. A broad black cloth hid the lower part of their faces, revealing only a pair of eyes on each face. Shun counted. Ten. He had faced worse odds before.

A quick glance next to him confirmed that Lan had drawn his sword too. Shun moved to the side, eyes back on their attackers. Lan’s swordsmanship was weaker than his. If he could draw the majority away from Lan then, _perhaps._

 A flash of light to his left was all the warning Shun had. He ducked as the blade sliced the air where his neck had been. His assailant jumped to the side. Two more approached Shun from the side. Shun snarled. He feinted, then swung a leg out and it hit flesh with a satisfying thwack. There was a whimper of pain and one of the black clothed attackers fell to the ground.

 In the corner of his eye he saw two rush at Lan who met the attacks with a clang of metal on metal. He ducked, weaved and sent another attacker sprawling before edging behind a tree.  Pride rose in Shun’s chest. Lan’s technique had certainly improved.

There was a movement in the corner of his eye. Shun’s own sword sang as he swung it in an arc - and met the blade of another attacker. He grit his teeth and forced his arm down, changing the angle as their blades met just slightly - enough to reflect the morning sun’s rays into the eyes of yet another as he came up from behind them. Shun moved two steps to the side before placing both hands on the the hilt of his sword and bringing it down as a blunt force. before thrusting forward. It hit one attacker’s back and sent him barrelling into his team mate. _Three down_. Shun smiled, baring his teeth as he looked around. Who was next?

 “Surrender.”

The word sent a frission down his spine. So - this would be his next challenger? Shun turned towards the words - and froze. Lan was held down, his arms twisted behind him and a knee on his back. The sunlight glinted off the sword that was being held at his neck.

“ _Surrender._ ”

Shun dropped his sword.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, please come and hang out at my tumblr [gixininja.tumblr.com](http://gixininja.tumblr.com). Please comment if you have read and enjoyed - would love to hear from you!
> 
> Next chapter will be late May-early June.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is betaed by the lovely [Av](http://evelynatthecircus.tumblr.com/)

Shun tried not to twist against the ropes that bound his hands behind him. A black bag had been pulled over his head. He had been forced up three steps onto something that then started moving - a carriage - or was it a cart? Lan’s arm was pressed up against his own. His elbow dug into Shun’s side. It shifted slightly as Lan’s breath rose and fell. Shun wanted to bare his teeth at the sensation and wrench his arm from the ropes that held them down. If he loosened his arms and then managed to get his hands on a sword then perhaps -

 Perhaps - but blinded by the bag over his head and outnumbered, how long could last before he was inevitably overpowered again? Shun grit his teeth. He could feel his nails as they dug into his palm. Something jostled the carriage and it lurched to the side. Shun was thrown up against Lan before he was pulled back by a hand on his shoulder. He tried to _concentrate_.

 The men must have been sent by the King or the Grand Duke. Mere bandits did not truss prisoners and put them into a carriage. The streets of Yangnan had been empty as they rode past. The only sign of life had been the slamming of a window. Had they been seen? How did word get to the Capital so quickly?

Shun and Lan had been travelling towards the Capital. The road they were on lead to straight to that destination. Now, in a carriage, they had already been travelling for - it felt like at least two hours. The Capital was still at least two days’ travel away and a carriage was slower than horseback. Perhaps, whether then they stopped overnight Shun could - when their captors were distracted - find a way to get a hand on one of their weapons and escape. That was, of course, under the assumption that their captors kept them together. What if Lan was taken away? Blinded and bound, how would Shun know where Lan was? 

A growl erupted from Shun’s throat. He twisted in his bonds, trying to break free. If he could just get one hand free -

The cold prick of a knifepoint against his back stopped his movements. A warm breath was at his ear. “You keep moving like that and this knife will slide easily between the ribs of your friend here.”

Shun froze. His breath caught in his throat. Two heart beats passed. The knife finally retreated. Another heartbeat, and the voice was back against his ear. “Good. I guess it’s your friend’s lucky day.”

Beside him, Lan did not move. Had he even heard the threat? It was good if he did not. In the darkness, Shun closed his eyes. There was no use in struggling now. The ties that their captors had used to bind them was too tight to get free, no matter how he struggled, and even if he did manage to free himself, they were armed and he was not; they could see and he could not.

The carriage jostled again. Was it imagination or were they slowing? Shun stiffened, brows furrowed under the bag that covered his head. It must have still been morning or at the latest, early afternoon. This was far too early. They would be nowhere near the Capital or even a stopping place for the night. Perhaps - a patrol, or a sentry? But why would they want to stop the King’s men? 

They had stopped.

“We’re here.”

There was a rush of cold air as Lan was suddenly pulled away from his side.

“What-” The sensation of fingers that curled around his elbow interrupted Shun.

“Careful, General. There are three steps until you reach the ground.”

 Shun expected to be thrown to the ground like a sack of turnips. Instead, another hand guided him as he gingerly walked down one - two - three - steps, and his feet touched the ground. Two hands how, one on each side of him, propelled him forwards. Shun twisted his head back in the darkness. “Wait - Lan?”

 “Your friend is walking ahead of us, General. Now lift your knees up here. We are crossing the threshold. “

 They were entering someone's residence, then. The front gate into a house and doorways into rooms always had a raised threshold to protect against flooding - and demons as the old superstitions said. Demons could not bend their knees. A sudden wave of helplessness engulfed Shun. If _he_ were a demon, would they be here? He would be able to fly, or summon wind and fire and Lan, his mother would both be safe.

Shun obediently lifted his feet when he was nudged. Not a demon. He was still a man of flesh and bone.

The ground beneath his feet changed from uneven dirt to smooth paving stone. Most definitely an entryway then - but were they in a public building or a residence? Two more sets of steps and a twisted walkway that made his head spin. Shun counted thirty more paces before they finally stopped. He stiffened at the sensation of a cold blade at his wrists - but then his hands were suddenly free. The bag was pulled off his head, leaving him squinting and blinking in the bright morning sunlight.

 “Welcome, General, Cheng Lan. I apologise for the rough journey but there was no other way to guarantee your cooperation. Besides, some of my men just couldn't turn down the opportunity for a quick spar with the legendary General Wei.”

 It was a woman who spoke. Her hair was bound back in a simple knot at the nape of her neck and she was dressed in a plain cotton grey hanfu. There was something familiar about the strong arch of her eyebrows and the high curve of her nose, but  Shun could not quite remember what.

 Shun looked around. There were seven men in total who surrounded them. Two held arrows and the rest were armed with swords. The one closest  to him was three paces away. For him to be able to reach that sword before any of the archers had time to load their bows he would have to -

 “Pine trees.”

 Lan's voice broke through his thoughts, clear and sharp. What was Lan talking about? Shun’s head snapped around to face him. Lan stood in the courtyard, arms at his sides, tall and straight. Shun followed his gaze and noticed - the hem of the woman’s skirt was embroidered with a line of pine trees.  

 Lan spoke again. “So, tell me Lady Xue-li, was it Meiyu and her brother who told you of our location, or the Ninth Prince?”

 Shock washed over Shun like a sheet of ice cold water. There was a roaring in his ears. Lan’s gaze did not waver.

 This - _this made no sense._

 “Lan - you _knew_?”

 Did Lan know their captors - _had all this been planned_?

 The second part of what Lan had said slowly seeped in Shun’s awareness. “Meiyu - Feng - they are also part of this?” They had left Yangnan in the night and the attack had come just after dawn. There would have been no time to send a message out. Lan had barely even released their own pigeons. The birds would have had barely any time to fly before they were attacked.

 If these were enemies, why did Lan know them?

 If these were friends - why were they attacked, and how did they know where to find Lan and himself?

  _Meiyu and Feng._ They had served Shun ever since he had been given his holdings at Yangnan. Shun would have never believed that the two of them would ever betray him but - 

Shun remembered how the lone pine tree on that shelf in Meiyu and Feng’s house had glimmered in the candlelight. How Lan had stared up at it. The memory mocked him. Pine trees, there were pine trees everywhere. What did they all mean?

“I promise you, General, Cheng Lan knew as little of our plans as you did.” Xue-li said. Shun’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at Lan then at the woman, then back at Lan.

“How did you know then that about Meiyu and Feng - and what is this about the _ninth prince?”_

They had been about to leave Xu when Prince Minyu had walked down the steps of Prince Huiqing’s manor, a cage with two pigeons in hand. _They can be useful to signal for help, if the need arises_. The sleeves of his robe were also adorned with embroidered pine trees.

What did the _ninth prince_ have to do with it all? 

Lan's family had been convicted of treason. Shun remembered Lan’s father. Lan’s father had been convicted and executed for treason. Shun had thought that there would not be a more loyal man in the whole kingdom of Jin, but accusations of treason did not come from thin air.

Somehow, Lan knew these men and knew their intentions. The Grand Duke had kept Lan alive for some purpose. Cold trickled down Shun’s spine. Ten long years had passed since Shun had last seen Lan. Then, he had been a wide eyed and gangly eighteen year old about to the enter the Court of Jin.

 The Grand Duke had told Shun to _keep an eye on Lan._

 “Shun - ” Lan took a step towards him. “I can explain - ”

 “No.” Shun took a step back. Whatever this was, his mother had already been arrested on the grounds of treason. “No Lan, whatever this is, I do not want to know. I will not endanger my mother more.” He needed to go to the capital - he needed to rescue his mother. Shun turned on his heel and strode toward the walkway that lead towards the main gate. He needed to get out. He barely even heard Lan’s voice call after him.

“ _Shun._ ” 

 

 

 

 

 

To his surprise, the guards parted in front of him without resistance. Good. They had stopped far too early. There were only a few possible towns that could contain a household of this size. They must therefore be in Lizhou or Shuiling. He walked through a winding corridor, down two steps and into the front and main courtyard. It was still at least one more day’s ride to the Capital. It was now late afternoon. If Shun left now he would be able to reach the Capital’s gates by dawn and then he would need to find a way -

As he approached the main gate two guards move in front of him to block his way. Shun scowled and tried to push past them. He had to get _out_.

He was met with the point of a sword.

“I am sorry, General. We cannot let you leave.”

Shun’s fists clenched. The two guards were similarly armed. Both possessed a sword and a small knife at their belt. They wore a light leather vest over their hanfu - basic armor. If Shun moved forward and then feinted to the side - perhaps he would be able to overpower one. Would he be able to disarm him and get hold ofthe sword in time to deal with the second guard?

He could only try. Shun snarled, jumped to the side and ducked. The sword that would have sliced through his neck swung through open air.

“ _Wait_ \- ” he heard someone say, “We cannot _harm_ him.”

 Shun aimed a kick forward and heard a satisfying _oof_ as his boot hit the fleshy part of his opponent’s thigh. The first guard doubled forward and Shun reached down to twist to other man’s wrist and grab his weapon.

He was stopped by the point of a sword against his neck.

“I am sorry General, we have our orders.”

In the corner of his eye Shun could count three other guards who had entered the area. It was now five against one, and he had a sword pointed at his neck.

 “You cannot let me go because I have seen where your headquarters are,” Shun said. “Why don’t you just kill me now?”

 “We have our orders,” was the reply. “We cannot let you leave but we are otherwise not to harm you.”

Shun growled and took a step back. “I will have no part in this - in what you have organised here,” he said.

The eyes that met his were cool, brown and expressionless. “Nevertheless, these are our orders.” The man who held a sword to him arched an eyebrow. “Do you even know what our organisation fights for?”

“You - ” Shun too a step back and the sword against his neck fell away. His head snapped around. Five guards surrounded him. They were all armed. Even if he was not slowed by the fatigue of a whole night’s ride the odds were slim. There was no way he could leave now. Shun snarled again and whirled around. Later. At night, perhaps, the guard here would thin. He would find an opportunity later.

“I am going back to find Lan,” he said. 

No one moved to follow him. Shun walked back down through the corridors. His fingers itched for a sword or the familiar wood of a spear. Any sort of weapon and he would be able find an advantage and escape rather stay in this prison.

 

 

 

 

Voices drifted towards him as he neared the courtyard. Shun frowned and caught sight of Lan - and the Lady Xue-li. They stood close together in a now otherwise empty courtyard. From afar, they looked like two close friends in conversation. How long had Lan been involved in all of this? Shun scowled and ducked behind a wall out of sight.

“Do not worry, Cheng Lan. The General is free to explore this household to his heart’s content but he will not be able to leave,” Xue-li said.

“I told your Prince - I said to both the Fifth and the Ninth Prince - _we want no part in this_.”

That was Lan’s voice. Shun let out soft breath. He stepped closer to the edge of the wall. How long, he wondered, had Lan known?

“That is what the Ninth Prince said - but that was before the good General’s mother was arrested and dragged into the prisons of the Capital. He thought that you may now have more interest in our little organisation.”

Shun’s breath hitched and then he shook his head. Of course, if Meiyu and Feng were mixed up in all of this, they could have sent word long before Shun and Lan returned.

“Before Shun’s…” Lan’s voice trailed off. Shun pressed an ear towards the edge of the wall. “....what do you mean? Prince Ming-yu is in Xu. He must have told you to set this up before we even told him we were leaving. ” There was a pause, a soft hitch of an intake of breath. “How did he know?”

Lan was answered by a soft laugh.

“Prince Ming-yu, our Ninth Prince? No one amongst the Pine Resistance knows his source of knowledge. All we know is that when the Ninth Prince does speak, _he is rarely ever wrong._ I suppose it is indeed fortunate that he supports the Fifth Prince.”

So this was about Prince Ming-song, the Fifth Prince. Shun should have guessed. The second character of the Prince’s name referred to the upright and steadfast pine tree. It must have been why the pine tree was chosen as a unifying symbol for this group. Shun let out a long sigh. The day that first order for a massacre of an entire village had been given it was only the Fifth Prince who had dared defy the King and the Grand Duke. Even hidden in the depths of the palace under his house arrest, there already were plenty of whispers that he would be more suited for the Dragon Throne.

“You do not have to keep standing there, General.” Xue-li’s voice rang out loud and clear. Shun stiffened and bit back a curse. His fingers curled at his hip, fumbling for the ghost of the sword hilt that would normally be there. It could not be helped. Sucking in a breath, Shun took a step forward into the courtyard.

The way Lan’s face lit up when he saw him sent a small stab of pain through Shun’s chest. No matter how much Lan knew, it was clear that becoming embroiled in this was not part of _his_ plan. Shun forced himself to tear his gaze away from his lover’s face onto  that of Lady Guang Xue-li.

Lady Xue-li - without the strung out tension that had threaded through him, she was easy to recognise. The Lady Xue-li was the only child of General Guang, who had been one of the finest strategists in Jin. Poetry had been written about Lady Xueli’s prowess with every weapon that her hands clasped, her bold military strategy and her deceptive fragile beauty. She and the Fifth Prince had been betrothed since they were both babes - a match calculated by the sum of the cycles of the moon and the stars. It was said that the Prince and the Lady had grown up together within the walls of the palace. They were far more well matched than even the most skilled matchmaker could hope for.

“I am surprised, Lady Xue-li, that you would be such a supporter of the Fifth Prince,” Shun said, “After he broke your engagement mere months before you would be wed.”

There was a pause. Xue-li’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “He did break our engagement,” she said, finally. “It came at a time of great inconvenience - for my father.”

The entire Capital had heard of how General Guang had raged. He had tempted death in the way he had denounced Prince Ming-song and with him, the rest of the royal family. It was only the truth of what had happened to Lady Xue-li that stilled the King’s hand, and led him tomercy rather than execution. A woman shunned as Xue-li had been, after such a long betrothal, would not be fit for another marriage.

In any case, it was only after two more months, on the eve of what would have been his daughter's wedding night, that General Guang tendered his resignation from the court of Jin to the King himself - and disappeared with his daughter from the Capital.

“Yet, you are here,” Shun said.

“Yet, I am here, General.” Xue-li shrugged,glanced at Lan, then fixed her gaze back at Shun. “I support Prince Mingson, the Fifth Prince, as the true heir of the Mandate of Heaven and the Dragon Throne.” She took in a breath and lifted her chin. “General, Cheng Lan, I have sent my men away as a sign of trust and respect. I think you know why - and what my question to you will be.”

Lan stepped forward. His eyes met Shun’s for a brief second and tore away. “What if we refuse?” he said. “What if we still do not want to be mixed in all of this?”

“Then we will die,” Shun said. He met Xue li’s gaze evenly. He remembered what the guards at said. _We have our orders not to harm him._ It would be different once they gave their response to this question. “Isn’t that right, my lady? We have entered your headquarters, we know where you are. You give us the pretense of freedom but we are not allowed to leave unless we join you.” 

Xue-lie shrugged, a brief rolling back of her shoulders. There was a sword buckled at her belt and Shun would guess at least one knife embedded in the boots she wore. “You are a General, Wei Shun. You know very well what sort of risks I must not take.” Her lips thinned. “I have not yet heard a proper response.”

Shun shook his head. “You want to rebel and place the Fifth Prince on the throne. In these years, it is true that only Prince Mingsong has show any care for the people, but he is under house arrest. Some may think that this sort of action is a noble cause, others will think it foolishness.” He took in a breath. “What do I think? I do not care who sits on the Dragon Throne. My mother has been arrested on charge of treason. I need to get her out of the capital.”

Shun’s felt Lan move to stand in next to him. He could almost feel the back of the Lan’s hand brush against his own. He turned his head and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Then Lan turned back to face Xue-li.

 “So you see, neither of us are particularly interested in your cause. The question then is, my lady - if you have our allegiance, what will you do for us, in return?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your patience! Next chapter up in 4 weeks or so - 1st week of July!


	4. Chapter 4

The village of Lizhou was a farming and trading township. Lan knew that it had twice the populace of Yangnan and possessed a busy town square. There, fishmongers from the eastern shores came to trade their goods to merchants who would pack themfor the journey south, to the Capital, or west, to Xu. There were enough wealthy merchants in this town that it must boast more than one fine house, but _ this  _ manor, Lan thought as he followed Lady Xue-li into the study, would be one of the largest.

“Master Zhao is one of the wealthier merchants in the area,” Xue-li said as they stepped over the threshold to enter the room. “He is not here at the moment, but has kindly given our organisation free rein of his house.”

In Jin, the farms of the north produced wheat and grain for the kingdom and the warmer valleys of the south grew rice. Merchants and their trading routes had a near free passage anywhere they wanted. Lan watched as a servant poured out three cups of tea and then bowed before leaving the room. How much did this resistance movement use such trading routes? 

Xue-li inclined her head and waved them to sit.

Shun ignored the gesture.“That does not answer our question,” he said. “I thought that you wanted to come here, to continue our discussion.”

Xue-li’s eyebrows twitched. She pressed her lips together, looked first at Lan and then back Shun. “Of course, General,” she said. “If you want to get so quickly to business…” She turned, took a scroll from a shelf and rolled it out on the table before them. Lan leaned forward to peer at the details. It was a map of the capital. 

“Your mother has been arrested on a charge of treason,” Xue-li said, “She is not the first one to be accused of such under our current King’s rule. hey all met with a similar judgement and fate, even when it was the esteemed Lord Cheng - “ Lan stiffened. Xue-li’s eyes had glanced up from the map and met his. Lan tore his gaze away. A pause, and then Xue-li continued, “-or even his own brother. Therefore, you cannot rely on justice for her freedom.” She took a breath. “The date for her judgement has been set for the tenth day of the fourth month of this year. It will be a public trial. Both the King and the Grand Duke are expected to attend,” She tapped a finger on the map, pointing to the Main Square, where the yearly executions were always held. “There has been one other who was accused of treason and will be judged and sentenced on the same day - Official Wu Heng-shi.”

Lan gasped. “ _ Official Wu _ ?” Wu Heng-shi was in his eight decade. He was a man who had spent most of his life serving the court of Jin. 

“Lan...?” Lan looked up to see Shun’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Official Wu had retired from the court twenty years ago,” Lan said, “Six years ago, he was asked to resume his position as the head of the Ministry of Justice as a favour - to support the transition of new young King. He should have been enjoying the luxuries of his retirement but he did not hesitant to resume service.”  Lan shook his head. “He - this - there is no way that Wu Heng-shi would ever be a traitor.”

“Official Wu…” Shun frowned. “I remember him. When the King wanted me to lead a massacre of the people of Luofeng, only he dared to suggest that perhaps it was the burdens of war and taxes that caused the unrest.” He let out a long breath and slowly slid down into a seat. Shun picked up a cup of tea but did not drink. “So, you have a proposal?”

Xue-li nodded. “With the Grand Duke and the King out in public rather than behind the fortified walls of the palace, it will present a unique opportunity for us to attack.” She pointed to a row of houses in near the city’s eastern wall. “We have a few safe houses here for those of us who remain in the capital. Most of our number are outside. We are no longer small in number but scaling the walls of the capital is - difficult. This way we will be able to both hit our targets  _ and _ rescue the good Official and your mother at the same time.”

That plan made sense, but there was something else that Prince Ming-yu had said. The Grand Duke  _ knew _ of the existence of the Pine Rebellion. It was the only reason he was hesitant to execute the Fifth Prince, Ming-song. The only reason why the Fifth Prince remained under house arrest.

“Just because they are out in public does not mean they will be an easy target,” Lan said. “They will undoubtedly be well guarded and there will be scouts looking out for rebellion, given the current political climate.” A frisson of unease ran through him. Lan tried to shake his shoulders loose. There was still something here that did not quite make sense…

_ “My eldest brother was king but we all grew up together as brothers. We were all just boys, once. As long as my eldest brother is alive, my Fifth Brother will not mobilise his supporters.” _

“The Fifth Prince,” Lan said, “He knows of your plans? He supports this attack?”

Xue-li rolled her eyes and snorted. “If we wait for a day when misfortune or illness strikes King Ming-wang before we attack, we may as well watch and wait for the inevitable day the Grand Duke finally decides he is able to execute the Fifth Prince too. It has been more than a year since he was sentenced to house arrest. I can no longer wait for the Fifth Prince to be happy with our method of attack - he is our only hope.”

“ _ What _ ?” Shun set the cup in his hand down. It clanked as it hit the table. “Your leader - The Fifth Prince knows  _ nothing _ of your plans?”

Lan took a sip of his tea. He tasted nothing but heat. “The Ninth Prince then. Is Prince Ming-yu behind this plan for attack?”

“The Ninth Prince, Ming-yu, is wedded as Prince Consort to Xu.” Xue-li’s fingers clenched the end of the table, and then loosened. “No,” she said again, “The Fifth Prince was clear that he did not want to involve his younger brother and as for Prince Ming-yu…” She shook her head. “We update him on our actions and in return, sometimes we receive information but that is all.” Her mouth tightened for a brief moment, “There are good reasons why he is called the Wastrel Prince.  No one knows what it is that Prince Ming-yu truly wants, but he tells us he has no interest in the throne” 

Lan remembered the indiscernible expression that had flitted over Prince Ming-yu’s face. 

_ I am a coward, Cheng Lan. I have but one ambition in life: to live until I see thirty summers. _

Xue-li’s eyes glanced over Shun and then Lan. “I grew up with the Princes,” she said. “I received the same education as them.  _ This _ is my decision.” She pointed to the palace. “There will be very little other opportunity to have the Grand Duke and King Ming-wang so exposed. We need to move.”

Shun rolled his shoulders back and tilted his head to the side. “Why us, then? Your plan seems solid. There is nothing that we can do to add to it.”

Xue-li’s folded her arms across her chest and leaned forward. “You, General, served a term as Commander of the Imperial Guards. We have members amongst the Imperial Guards but none who know the formations and the training as well as one who has lead and overseen them.” Her lips quirked. “Besides, General Wei Shun, I have some admirers of you among my men and women. You were going to rescue your mother anyway, were you not? We could not bear to see you die in a suicide mission.”

The sunlight played off Shun’s features. Growing up, Lan had always wondered how his gentle Shun who rescued drowning kittens from rivers would fare on the battlefield. Shun’s eyes were hard, his jaw set. Lan was looking at the face of a determined general. He knew what Shun’s answer would be before he uttered even a word.

“Very well, then. Attack the King and the Grand Duke and rescue my mother - and the good Official Wu. If my mother’s safety is your promise, then you have my agreement. We will join you.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Xue-li had assigned a single servant after dinner to lead Lan and Shun to their quarters. Master Zhao, it seemed, had cleared his entire residence for the use of the Pine Resistance. The bedroom Shun and Lan were given was towards the back of the manor. They passed a few other members of the Resistance as they walked. Some inclined their heads, others stared. No one made a comment about Lan wearing his hair in the way of a free man when he was still, legally, Shun’s slave. Perhaps, the men and women here did not know of Lan’s true status.  The hated tattoo on Lan’s arm itched. He had to curl his fingers in his sleeve to resist the urge to scratch it.

The whole walk down to their quarters Shun was a stiff and silent presence beside him. Shun made no mention of what Lan had said out in the open courtyard. Lan found himself glancing at Shun’s face as they walked but under the silver cast of moonlight, Shun’s expression was unreadable.

When Shun pushed opened the doors to the bedroom, it revealed a single bed. It looked large, and comfortable but it was one, not two, and it meant that Lan and Shun would need to share. All of the members of the Pine Resistance so far had referred to Shun and he as  _ friends _ but if they had contact with Prince Ming-yu then it was likely it was well known that they were also lovers. 

Lan chewed on his bottom lip. He remembered Shun’s expression in the courtyard when their bindings had been cut and Lan had first seen Xue-li. There had been anger, hurt and betrayal.

“I can sleep on the floor, if you would like?”

“ _ What _ ?”

Lan glanced up at Shun’s face and looked down. The anger at least, was no longer there. “I - I wasn’t sure if you wanted to sleep in the same bed.”

Shun let out a long breath. “Are we going to fight about this again?” He looked up at Lan and his lip twitched. “I remember the last time we argued about this. We both ended up on a cold floor and it was a very uncomfortable night.”

Lan studied the stitching on the end of his shoe. It was very well sewn, he decided. Tiny, tight stitches held tightly together the leather of the top, to the sole of his shoe.

“Lan?”

Lan sighed. “You’re angry with me. Because I didn’t tell you about any of this.”

Hands cupped his cheeks and tilted Lan’s face up. Shun was looking down at him. His eyes were so soft. Lan didn’t know whether he wanted to beat his fist on Shun’s chest, or cry. Shun  _ should  _ have been angry with him.

“Do you remember that time when I was tasked to clean your father’s study and accidentally broke a vase that had been gifted to him by the old king himself?”

Lan frowned. “Yes, I - ”

“You took it on yourself to confess to your father and his steward that  _ you _ had snuck into your father’s study to borrow a book and broken it  - before you even spoke to me about it.”

Lan’s cheeks flushed. He hid it by tucking his face against the crook of Shun’s neck. “It was just an accident,” he said. “If I confessed to it I would just get a reprimand. Even if I were beaten, it still wouldn’t have been as bad a beating as you would have received.” A beating would have been the best scenario for Shun. Servants were dismissed for far lesser crimes than breaking a precious vase.

Shun huffed. “Yes,” he said, “Growing up, you always tried to protect me - even when you were goading me towards trouble. Even though you are two years younger than me.”

Lan rubbed his cheek against the roughness of Shun’s collar. “If father had dismissed you and your mother because of a broken vase, who would I get to steal steamed  _ baozi _ buns from the kitchen, or plums from Father’s tree? Besides, your mother makes the best dumplings.”

“You protected me from your brother’s bullying-”

“My brothers never understood the proper Confucian principles. It was not your fault that you were born a peasant. Any individual can become a Confucian  _ junzi -  _ the superior person - through effort and study. Confucius himself took students from all walks of life.”

“-and from our tutors when they called me stupid.” Shu’s lips twitched again.

Lan rolled his eyes. “You are  _ not  _ stupid. A little slow perhaps... _ but _ \- “ he looked up at Shun. “You were ten years old when you started your first classes with us. I know father made sure all the servant’s children had some form of an education, but what you would have received would have been basic. You were years behind. It was unfair to compare you to the rest of my brothers when you just started.” It was Lan’s turn to huff. “It was not as if they made any effort to help you.” 

“I am not a child anymore, Lan. We are not children anymore.”

Lan wrapped his arms around Shun and closed his eyes. Shun’s chest had always been broad, but underneath his clothing he now bore the flesh of a man who had worn armour, who had fought in war and who had commanded armies. Lan breathed in Shun’s scent for a moment and then, slowly, nodded. “I know,” he said. “I should have told you, discussed all of this with you at the very least. Not make decisions for you.” He looked up at Shun. “I’m sorry.” He buried his face again in Shun’s chest. “I was such a  _ brat. _ ”

Shun’s chuckle vibrated through him. Lan felt a hand on his hair. “Do you want to tell me - when did you know? What did you know?” Fingers slid under his chin. Lan felt Shun’s thumb stroke his jaw. “You really didn’t know about their attack, and the plan to bring us here, did you?”

Lan let himself enjoy Shun’s warmth for a few more moments before he reluctantly took a step back. Shun needed to sit down to hear this. “No,” he said, “I didn’t.” He moved to sit at the table in their room and motioned for Shun took a sit down beside him. Lan’s eyes met Shun’s. Shun offered an encouraging smile.

“I’ve known for a good amount of time, Shun,” Lan said. He licked his lips. “The first time I met the Fifth Prince was by accident. They mistook me for his manservant and asked me to bring food to him. It was then that I first suspected. I confirmed the existence of a rebelmovement before the baby prince’s death was announced.” Lan took in a breath. “But, I didn’t want us involved. I found out so that  _ I could avoid it _ .” He shook his head. “Then there was Prince Ming-yu.”

“The Ninth Prince,” Shun said, “I saw him that day when I returned to our rooms after my morning walk.”

“The morning walk that you shouldn’t have had,” Lan couldn’t help the words. Shun rolled his eyes. “Yes, that was him. He asked me again about the resistance - and I said  _ no _ .”

“The pigeons?”

“I don’t understand why he gave us pigeons.” Lan remembered the way the Ninth Prince had walked down the steps, colour high on his cheeks. Had he known then what Lan and Shun were riding into?

_ The Ninth Prince has made it clear he has no interest in anything to do with the court of Jin. _

How much was the Prince Ming-yu really involved with all of this?

Shun was silent. Lan didn’t dare to meet his eyes. He closed his eyes, screwed them tight and concentrated on furling his fingers into as tight balls as he could.

“I don’t understand, Lan,” Shun said finally. Lan hesitantly opened one eye, then the other. Shun was looking at him. “With what has happened to you - and to your father, I would have thought that you would have wanted- that is to say,” he shook his head. “If the King was overthrown, you would have a more realistic chance of true,  _ legal  _ freedom.”

Shun had put a hand on top of his. Shun’s skin was warm, rough and calloused beneath. Lan gave Shun’s hand a light squeeze.

“You never treated me like a slave, Shun,” he said.

Shun’s fingers ghosted over Lan’s cheek. He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Your father - he was convicted of treason and executed, and for that you were enslaved but I cannot imagine either of you - “ Shun broke off and his fingers caught Lan’s. “Did you father know? About all of this?”

“What?  _ No _ .” Lan jerked back. His fingers slipped through Shun’s hand. He pushed himself violently away from the table and strode across the room. “My father knew  _ nothing  _ of this back then and nor did I. Even if he did - he would have never thought to join - “

“Lan.” Shun had stood up. He was walking towards him. Lan backed away.

“My father was completely  _ innocent.” _

“I know - of course he was.” Shun stopped and held up his hands. “I am just trying to understand, Lan. The Grand Duke, he was obsessed with you. He was always asking about your movements. And then I was sent to the border to die. My mother has been arrested. I don’t understand  _ why _ .” Shun turned away. 

Lan’s shoulder’s sagged. He reached out, grabbed the hem of Shun’s sleeve and gave it a light tug. Shun frowned slightly but Lan tugged until they were standing face to face. Lan looked up. Shun was always so earnest and trusting.

“I do know, Shun. I know why my family were prosecuted,” He lowered his eyes, “Why your mother was arrested.”

Lan threaded his fingers through Shun’s hand and lead him towards the bed. Once Shun was seated, Lan sat down beside him. He licked his lips and wondered where to start. “It was mere weeks before King Ming-wang was due to come of age and be crowned officially as king that the Second Prince, Ming-an was accused of a plot to murder his elder brother and take the throne for himself. The Second Prince was rapidly tried, convicted and executed.

“Yes,” Shun said. “It came as a surprise to everyone. We all thought that the Second Prince supported his brother. He never had before shown any desire for the Dragon Throne.”

Lan nodded. “It didn’t make sense. There were these letters that had been stamped with the Second Prince’s seal instructing the rebels, but on the day of the supposed attack, I know that he was seen with his men at  the barracks on the outskirts of the Capital. He was preparing to leave to serve at the borders with the Fifth Prince after his brother’s coronation. He could not have been anywhere near Ming-wang - to attack him. Then -” Lan looked down at the bed. “I remembered a conversation I had overhead a week before the Second Prince’s arrest. Two servants were talking about how careless the Second Prince was. That he never kept his seal locked and it was therefore accessible to all.”

“The seal, therefore, could have been stolen.” Lan said. He shook his head. “It was my foolishness to realise that, and my idiocy to go and speak to my father about it.” Lan tipped his head up. His eyes pricked but he forced a smile on his face. “You remember my father’s ways, don’t you? He made his life an example of justice and fairness. He decided this warranted investigation.”

Lan’s hands hurt. He looked down. His fingers were balled into tight little fists on his lap. He slowly unfurled them and stared at the half moon prints his nails had left on his palm. “We almost,  _ almost _ had enough evidence to present before the court when the Imperial Guards came.” A shudder ran through Lan’s body. If he closed his eyes he could see it. It had been the middle of the night when they had been dragged out of their beds. The bright torchlight that dazzled his eyes and the smoke that choked his breath. The bright yellow cross that had been pasted to the front door of his house as his hands were forced behind him and bound. The crying of the children.

“Oh, Lan.”

Lan felt Shun’s lips brush his forehead. Shun’s thumbs wiped at his cheeks and Lan realised that his face was wet.

“We will join this resistance group. We will rescue my mother, kill this Grand Duke and his puppet king and then we will demand the Fifth Prince to clear your family of any wrongdoing,” Shun said.

Ridiculous laughter bubbled through Lan. It was too late. What would clearing names do? It would not bring back his father, his brothers and their wives or his nieces and nephews. He buried his face in Shun’s chest. His shoulders shook but whether the shuddering, strangled noise that came out of his throat was laughter or sobs, Lan did not know.

Finally, Lan fell still. Shun’s shirt was wet underneath his face. He could feel Shun’s hands stroking circles on the small of his back.

“Lan?”

Lan looked up. Shun’s eyes glimmered in the candlelight. Lan’s fingers locked around the collar of Shun’s hanfu and he tugged him closer. He tilted his face upwards and their lips met.

Shun’s lips were so soft in contrast to the harsh scratch of his cheek. Lan slid a hand under Shun’s  _ hanfu _ , through the layers of his inner  _ yi _ and rested his palm against Shun’s chest. He could feel Shun’s heartbeat under his fingers. Shun groaned lightly into his mouth and his arms surrounded Lan. Shun’s arms were as thick and stocky as the rest of him and Lan should have been crushed in Shun’s embrace, but instead he was cocooned in solid warmth.

“Lan.” Shun’s lips broke away and Lan gasped at the sudden lost of contact but then he could feel Shun brush another kiss against his forehead.

“Shun,” Lan said. Beneath his fingers the ties to Shun’s robes came undone. He reached up to peel the layers off his  shoulders. Shun’s skin glowed bronze in the candlelight.

“Lan,” Brown fingers grasped his wrist. Lan could feel Shun’s eyes on him. “Are you sure?”

Lan let out a little huff and wiped the back of his hand against his eyes. They were already dry. He felt as if something had reached inside and hollowed him from the inside out. Lan wanted to be  _ full _ again. 

“You always ask me this,” he said. He shook his head and leaned forward, planting soft kisses at the base of Shun’s jaw as his hands loosened the ties to his own hanfu. “Even when it is me that is pushing you down into the bed.”

“Lan,” Shun said again. Warm fingers skimmed his cheeks. Shun was shaking his head. “This - it is just that, a moment ago you were - ”

Lan reached up to tug at the hair tie that bound Shun’s topknot. Shun’s hair cascaded down his shoulders. Lan caught his fingers and skimmed kisses over their tips before planting his hands firmly on Shun’s chest and pushing him down on the bed.

“Do you still think I’m not sure?”

Shun’s fingers caught his jaw again. Lan tugged down the top of his hanfu. Shun’s fingers moved down. He could feel them butterfly-light on the edge of his collarbones. 

“You - you were crying just then,” Shun said. He closed his eyes, took a breath and then opened them. They met Lan’s eyes and seemed to bore into his very soul. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Shun,” Lan said. He pressed two fingers over Shun’s lips. “You could never hurt me.” He held them there and forced his own eyes to meet Shun’s gaze and not look away. Lan’s free hand found Shun’s and pressed it against his cheek. “I’m not crying now, see?”

Slowly, the coiled tension under his fingertips loosened. Lan smiled and leaned down to catch Shun’s lips again, making sure he nipped the bottom lip playfully. “You would not hurt me even if you  _ tried _ .”

“Is that so?” Shun smiled up at him. Lan felt calloused fingers skim his sides and move to grasp his ass. They squeezed. Lan arched his neck and groaned into the sensation.

“Lan?” The edge of worry was creeping back into Shun’s voice. “I don’t know if we have any oil…”

Lan forced himself forward and gave Shun’s earlobe a quick nip. “You know, there are lots of things that we can do that can be fun - and don’t need oil.” Shun’s fingers caught his own, entwined them and gave a light squeeze. Lan pressed a kiss against Shun’s chest.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I want this. I will stop if it stops being so...enjoyable.”

Lan planted a kiss on either side of Shun’s chest. Histeeth skimmed a pebbled nipple - and earned a groan from the man beneath him. Another kiss on the flat plane of muscle just to the right of Shun’s navel and then Lan’s hands moved downwards.

Shun was already tenting his trousers. Lan unwrapped the layers as if they were the silk wrappings that hid a precious gift. Underneath his clothes, Shun’s length was red with a pearlescent drop at the tip. Lan bent his head down and tasted it. A glance up through his lashes found Shun, hands bunched in the sheets, gazing down on him. His pupils were so wide, his eyes were almost black.

The first time they had done this was in the middle of a summer day, hidden under the fringes of a willow tree in the stream that ran just outside their town. Shun had been unbearably red faced and shy, but it hadn’t taken too much encouragement from Lan to push him to lie back in the long summer grass.

_ “I have something to show you - ”  _ Lan had said, brimming full of the lustful exuberance that only came with youth.  _ “There is something I want to try.” _

Lan could feel Shun’s fingers slide through his hair. For a moment, he was back there in the warm, slick summer heat. He could almost hear the thrum of cicadas and smell the freshly crushed grass.

There was another groan from Shun’s lips. Shun’s hips jerked and the cock in Lan’s mouth thrust up. For a brief, sickening moment, the world around him lurched. Someone’s hand was in his hair. They were holding him down.  _ A hand on his neck forced his jaw open…. _

Lan opened his eyes and forced himself to breathe. Shun’s scent filled his nostrils. He slid Shun’s length out of his mouth and bent over, panting in the darkness.

“Lan?”

A hand touched his cheek. A calloused thumb brushed his bottom lip. Lan let out a long breath. This was Shun. He was with Shun.

“Lan?” Shun asked, again.

Lan’s fingers closed around Shun’s hand, holding it cradled to his cheek. He felt the roughness of that palm, of those callouses earned from years of training and practice. This was Shun’s hand. Lan managed a shaky smile and then slid up Shun’s body to nuzzle his jaw. 

Shun’s hand caught Lan’s shoulder. “Lan, you stopped, is everything okay?”

Lan slid his hand over Shun’s and stretched his lips into a smile. “That, was fun,” Lan said. He closed his eyes and breathed Shun in again. Shun’s skin tasted light salt under Lan’s tongue. The prickles of his cheek scratched Lan’s cheek. Lan opened his eyes to meet Shun’s. “I am fine.” He closed his hands around Shun’s length, holding things still for a moment and then gave it a light stroke. 

“Like, I said, there’s lots of things that we can do without oil.” Lan leaned forward so that his breath brushed against Shun’s ear when he spoke. “You take care of me, and I take care of you?”

The shudder that ran through Shun sent a shiver of delight down Lan’s spine. He was with Shun.  _ His Shun.  _ He felt Shun fumble at his waist and then felt Shun’s hand around himself. There was nothing more delicious than the feel of Shun’s rough skin against his own.

“ _ Shun… _ ”

Shun let go, winding his arms around Lan. Lan moved his hands up, fingers pressed against Shun’s shoulders. They moved against each other, the rub of skin against skin sending waves of delicious friction through them. Shun could have tightened his hold around Lan and crushed his body to him. Instead, his fingers barely skimmed Lan’s hips, holding Lan as if he was made of the most precious porcelain. Lan could see the tremble that went through Shun’s arms at the effort of it.

Lan leaned down, pressing their lips together. His hands slid down Shun’s shoulders, down his arms, and moved atop the back of Shun’s hands where he was held. “Shun,” he said again.

“Lan.”

The word, his name, was breathed into his own lips.

Their bodies pressed up against one another. The pace was achingly slow, as if they had forever and a day to lie like this, to move like this. Lan’s hands pressed Shun’s down into the bedsheets. Their fingers entwined again. Lan’s legs were twisted into Shun’s. It was as if their bodies were melting together in the night. Lan gasped against Shun’s lips. Shun groaned into Lan’s mouth.

When they came, it was as one. Hot wetness splashed against each other’s bellies. Their fingers tightened spasmodically, locked against one another as they tumbled together into the dark pit of pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter in 3-4 weeks! :D In terms of writing I'm up to starting chapter 7 already but have glorious plans for what lies ahead. 
> 
> I'm also on tumblr, [come and say hi](http://gixininja.tumblr.com)!


	5. Chapter 5

Lan woke to an empty bed. The blankets were tucked down tight against his sides. Only the rumpled sheets next to him and a telltale stain testified that Shun had been with him the night before. He rolled over, pulling the blankets within him so that they bunched under him in a round ball. Lan took in a deep breath. He could still  _ smell _ Shun. Lan buried his nose, inhaling Shun’s scent, eyes still closed. Where was Shun, Lan wondered. He had fallen asleep last night, nestled against Shun’s side. Shun always rose earlier than Lan but they were no longer home, and -

Lan sat bolt upright. Would Shun try to leave again, to find his mother?

The long rays of the morning sun streamed through the windows. Lan squinted up at them and let out a long breath. Shun was a man of habit. He liked to rise early in the morning to train. With the rebels living here, there were probably training yards, hidden in this sprawling manor-house. Shun would - he would most likely be there. That is where Lan would find him. Lan rubbed a hand over his face and moved to untangle himself from the sheets.

Someone had delivered breakfast. The mantou buns that had been placed on a table in the center of the room were cool to the touch but still light and fluffy. Lan shoved one in his mouth as he straightened his topknot. Dressed, and with breakfast in hand, he stepped out of their room. He needed to find Shun. He needed to find an area that was flat, large and mostly devoid of garden plants that Shun might have picked for his morning drills.   


Stepping through a round archway, Lan walked into the open hallways that linked the apartments in this house together. His ears strained for a hint of the thump of feet against flagstones or the grunts of effort Shun sometimes made while training. Nothing. Lan passed rockeries and a pagoda, and walked over a bridge under which flowed a bubbling creek. Nothing that looked like a training yard. If this were the only rebel headquarters in this village, where did they train?

A flicker of movement ahead made Lan stop in his tracks. Out of the shadows of the covered walkway ahead, Lady Xue-li emerged into the open path of the garden courtyard. She was swathed in flowing white hanfu, her hair bound in a simple knot at the base of her neck. She started when her eyes caught Lan’s.

“Cheng Lan. Good morning,” she said.

Lan stepped back, bending his back into a little more than a dip of the head but not quite as low as a formal bow. “Lady,” he said.

Xue-li returned the gesture. “The General is not with you?”

“I am looking for him,” Lan said. “I supposed he would be out in the training yards.” Lan looked around. They had stopped in the middle of what must have been the main series of gardens of the house. There was a series of carved wooden panelled windows ahead that must be the main hall and the path they were on led to a pavilion in the center of a large pond. He knew where he was now, but that didn’t make him any closer to Shun.

“Ah, of course. I will show you where they are.” She smiled, hands clasped behind her back as she strode forward. “I remember I met you once, Cheng Lan - before - ” Abruptly, Xue-li’s face twisted as if she had tasted something sour. She took in a breath and slowly her features smoothed out again. “It was more than four years ago. You and your father were at court, presenting the latest news from Xu?”

Lan had spent six years with his father in Xu. Four years ago, they had returned and it had been a whirlwind of introduction back to the court of Jin. Everyone, of course would have at least heard of the Lady Xue-li, betrothed of the Fifth Prince, even back then. _ Had they ever been formally introduced? _

“I remember. I think we had been introduced to the Fifth Prince, Mingsong - “ Lan’s mouth snapped closed as soon as he had realised he had mentioned the man who had broke Xue-li’s betrothal and destroyed the relationship between her family and the Royal family forever. It had ruined the Guang family’s position at court.  Warmth flooded his face. He stopped, hands clasped in front of himself in a deep bow. “That is to say, I mean - ”

Soft laughter was his answer. Lan turned to look at Xue-li. Her eyes crinkled in the corners. “I am no enemy of the Fifth Prince, Mingsong.” She shrugged, “It is far easier,” she said, “for a Prince to break a long standing betrothal with one of his subjects than for the subject to end such an engagement. My father was outraged and I am afraid my reputation is stained forever but - can you imagine the Palace’s reaction if I were the one to end the engagement?”

Lan gaped. “What - you - ?”

“We all grew up as children together.” Xue-li stopped walking. “The Fifth Prince Ming-song, the Second Prince Ming-an, and of course there was always the Ninth Prince Ming-yu somewhere in the background. We studied together, played together. Ming-an would  help me when I struggled with our tutor’s instructions in swordsmanship….” Xue-li’s voice grew soft. Her gaze looked out across the gardens, andone of her hands reached up to tuck away a loose tendril of hair. Abruptly, she shook her head. She started walking again. “Besides, what is the life of a Princess Consort? Hidden behind the walls of a harem. How would I have been able to serve my country then?”

Lan had to whirl around and trot to keep up as she continued down one of the meandering garden paths. “He broke your betrothal,” he said, carefully. “Is that why you support him now?”

Xue-li stopped. Lan had to reel himself back before he stumbled into her back. Xue-li turned back towards him. “I support him,” she said. Lan needed to lean forward to hear her. “I support him, because had he been king, he would not have stood aside and allowed his brother to be murdered.”  In the warm glow of the morning sun, Xue-li’s expression was unreadable. She dipped her head and started walking again. “It’s this way, Cheng Lan.”

Their steps twisted around two corners and through another arched gateway. Xue-li stopped again.  Lan sucked in a breath. Beyond Xue-li was a large, plain open courtyard and in the middle of it was his Shun.

Shun in the middle of training was glorious. Naked from the waist up, beads of sweat glinted off his sun-browned skin. His muscles bunched and moved as he twisted the point of a spear through the air. His hair was bound back into a tight top knot but even then, it glimmered with sweat.

If Lan tasted Shun’s skin right then, he knew it would taste of musk and salt.

“Good morning General.” Xue-li was smiling. All traces of that strange expression had melted away. “Do you mind if I join you?”

Shun paused mid spear-thrust. He jerked back, lowering his spear as he pulled his feet together in a mid bow. “Good morning,” he said. His eyes rested on Lan’s for a moment and he shrugged, a quick, rolling of muscles under skin that made Lan’s mouth water. “I would welcome a sparring partner.”

Lan had to bite his tongue to suppress his eye roll. Shun’s face was bland, but Lan could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

There was a rack of swords against one of the walls of the training yard, sheltered from the elements by the long slope of a roof. Xue-li paused in front of it and then in one smooth movement drew out a blade. A flurry of quick steps and she was in the center of the yard. A flash of sunlight against metal - and then a dull  _ thunk _ as the wood of Shun’s spear met steel.

“Do you want to change weapons, General?” Xue-li asked.

“No.” Shun shook his head. “I am happy with what I have.”

It could have been just a casual conversation but Shun’s arms were bunched tight. Xue-li’s legs were back, one in front of the other, bracing Shun’s heavier weight. Her arms trembled with the effort. If it was purely a match of strength against strength, then there would be one obvious winner.

Lan blinked. In that fraction of a second, Xue-li tilted her sword slightly upwards. It flashed, blindingly bright as the blade caught the rays of the morning sun. Shun stumbled back a step. Xue-li took that opportunity to duck under, aiming a low kick. Her heel met Shun’s ankle and sent him sprawling side wards. He went down, with just enough time to roll rather than slam onto the hard stone tiles. Xue-li was already up. She brought her sword down and over - it was met again by Shun’s spear.

This time, Shun pushed upwards. He levered all his weight as he rose and he pushed Xue-li back two steps.

Shun’s strengths were his physical power and his technique. Each strike was delivered perfectly with almost no opening to be exploited. Xue-li ducked and weaved, dodging and side stepping each of Shun’s attacks, a blur of white. It was clear her strengths were her speed and grace.Shun managed to block two strikes just before they hit their target.

From where he stood, Lan could see Xue-li’s tactic. Shun was the far heavier of the two and it took him more effort to achieve the same speed. Xue-li side-stepped and danced around each of Shun’s movements. Lan could see that eventually Shun would get tired, that his arms and legs would fail him and she would be able to deal the final blow.

It was a tactic that would have worked, had it been any other man. This, though, was Wei Shun.

When Shun was eight, he had been given a promise. He could continue as he was with his mother, forever servants in another man’s house, or he could learn, train and earn glory and honor by excelling at the Royal Military Examinations. Shun’s early mornings were not a habit that had been learned from military service. For as long as Lan could remember, Shun would wake up in the morning, before any of the servants rose for their duties to train. He would help his mother in the kitchens and in the afternoons, train again. Shun may have been born with some talent but his technique and stamina came from the sweat and blood of hours of practice.

Shun had been covered with sweat when Lan and Xue-li had arrived at the training yards but even now, he was not winded. The tip of his spear glinted in the sunlight and clashed as it met Xue-li’s sword. Blow by blow, Shun, impossibly, matched Xue-li’s speed.

Then Xue-li’s foot caught around Shun’s ankle. Shun toppled sideways. Xue-li took the opportunity to bring her sword down and across, meeting Shun’s fall, but Shun’s arms were already moving. The tip of his spear glinted white in the morning sun as it moved in an arc to meet Xue-li’s sword. Shun’s wrist flicked forward and the blunt wood of the spear met the soft tendons at the inside of Xue-li’s wrist. Her gasp was almost drowned by the screech of steel against stone as her sword came spinning out of her hand, across the flagstones to stop at Lan’s feet.

Shun stepped back. He brought his hands in front of himself, clasped in a low bow.

“General,” Xue-li smiled and returned the bow, her hand clasped to her  fist. “You do truly live up to your reputation.”

Shun dipped his head. “Thank you, Lady,” he said. “As do you. I do not think that I possessed half your ability when I was your age.” Shun’s eyes slid over to Lan’s face. Shun’s eyebrow twitched. “Besides, I have had a very good sparring partner, of late.”

Xue-li followed Shun’s gaze and her eyes widened. “Ah, Cheng Lan, I did not know that you were also highly skilled at the sword.”

Lan’s cheeks burned. He could feel both sets of eyes on himself. “My father wanted all his sons to be well verse in the scholar’s arts,” he said, “But I shirked my lessons. Sh-” Lan swallowed the easy reference to his lover. “General Wei is far more talented and trains harder than me, he is just being generous.” Shun’s lip twitched again. Lan swore that he was being laughed at. It look all of his will not to glare at Shun.

“We should discuss what your plans are for taking the capital, Lady,” Lan said, instead. “The date of the planned attack is in a fortnight’s time. You said that some of your men were already inside the city? Is that the majority of them, or will you still need to smuggle more through?”

Xue-li had walked over to return her sword to the rack. Shun had likewise replaced his spear and was running a cloth quickly over the back of his neck to catch any stray drops of sweat. They both stopped when Lan spoke.

Shun’s expression hardened. “Yes. Yesterday we only spoke of the crude outline but I am sure that you have more detailed plans, given how close this is.”

Xue-li nodded. “Of course,” she said. “We have the majority of our people already in the capital. One of the advantages of being able to use trade routes is that supplies of food generally go regularly into the capital without question. It is easy to use such deliveries to smuggle in who we want.”

That was a curious thing indeed. Master Zhao allowed these rebels to use his house, use his supply routes - “Where did you father retire to again, Lady?”

”There already are a row of safe houses where we have grouped.” Xue-li said, ignoring the question. “They are, of course, also responsible for the sorting and distribution of many of the goods that enter the city. This gives them a legitimate reason to be in the city and should allay any suspicion.”

Lan nodded slowly. It was a good plan, but it seemed overly generous that Master Zhou would provide a house in Lizhou, and a sorting house in the capital. Where had General Guang retired to? He tried to think. Had he retired to this area, around Lizhou? Was it to the northeast of the city?

“So your plan is to intercept the Grand Duke and the King. There may be enough manpower to do so if it is as you say,” Shun said, “And then - I suppose the next stage is to what - storm the palace and rescue the Fifth Prince?”

“There are enough of my people embedded in the Palace Guard,” Xue-li said, “As Lan here will tell you.”

Lan head twisted around to meet Xue-li’s at the mention of his name.  General Guang and Master Zhao’s hand in all of this he would have to think about later. “To kill the King and the Grand Duke,” he said, “Do you have enough men in the palace that such a thing will not arouse revolt across the Kingdom? The King - no matter what he does - is said to be appointed by the Heavens themselves.”

“If you have so many people within the palace guard,” Shun said, then why not rebel now within the palace? It would be far simpler to rescue the Fifth Prince if the attack originated within the palace rather than to stretch your people across two places at once.”

Xue-li frowned. “We have  _ infiltrated _ the palace guard, but we barely make up a quarter of the men within it. To rebel from within without outward support would be suicide.”

“The King is appointed by the Heavens,” Lan said. “You may found that you will find more willing helpers than you would think if they were convinced that the Heavens have shifted their favour to the Fifth Prince. There is already enough displeasure within the people of Jin at the rulings and taxes our current King has made.”

“At the end of the Hao Dynasty,” Shun said, “A man convinced his followers he was the rightful king by stuffing messages on oilskin in the stomachs of fishes. When the fish were cleaned and cooked, the messages proclaiming him to be the next King were found and belief of that to be the truth spread.”

Lan turned towards Shun eyes wide. Standing with feet wide apart under the golden glow of the morning sun, there was an unmistakable smirk on Shun’s face.

“How did you know that?”

Shun arched an eyebrow. “I had the same tutor as you, Lan. Although, I remember a certain young boy telling me this story.” His lips twitched. “Besides, as you well know, there is a written as well as a physical component to pass for the Royal Military Examinations.”

It was true that Huang Mintao had used such tactics to start a rebellion against the tyranny and corruption that was rife at the end of the Hao dynasty. It was less known that after his initial uprising failed, Huang Mingtao was murdered by his carriage driver who had been paid by one of the Hao dynasty officials. For all the bright sunshine and the warm morning, it suddenly became very cold. Lan ignored the shiver that ran down his spine.

“There are other ways too, of convincing the people that Ming-song is the actual appointed King,” Lan said, “Dragons are the messengers of the heavens and it is said that they appear when they are displeased with the rule of a king.”

“Dragons?” Xue-li said.

“At the end of both the Hao and Lin dynasties, dragons were seen multiple times: in storms, in floods, even in areas of pestilence, announcing Heaven’s displeasure at the frank corruption, the exploitation of the poor and the self indulgence of the wealthy that the ruling monarchs had allowed.” Lan shrugged. “There have been enough natural disasters in the last year for people to already grumble about Heaven’s favour. Perhaps - if dragons could also be seen - ”

“What? Are you saying that people should see dragons at the next rain or storm?” Xue-li’s brow creased into a frown. One finger tapped along the edge of her arm. “Well then, that would be easy enough to suggest I suppose although one cannot really  _ plan  _ for a storm.”

Lan met her eyes. “You said that you have members throughout the Kingdom. Certainly, trade routes would travel to every corner of Jin,” he said. “Sometimes, all it takes is the suggestion.”

“Perhaps,” Xue-li nodded. Her eyes gazed off into the distance. “There is a festival,” she said, “A local one here where many of the surrounding townships come to celebrate a local deity. I cannot guarantee a storm then, Cheng Lan but it is common for the people to buy and eat salted fish as part of the celebrations. It would be a good time to trial the General’s idea, don’t you think?”

Lan nodded, “Not in every fish. If we are to do this, it must seem therefore like an occurrence of nature. Otherwise, we invite too much scrutiny.”

Shun had slipped his hanfu back over his shoulders. He glanced over at Lan. “So it appears to be truly the will of the Gods?” He said, slowly. “In that case, if fish is commonly bought and eaten for celebrations we should spread the fish with the messages amongst a few fishmongers so not one person is identified.”

“And then, whenever the weather presents an opportunity, we can make the suggestion of dragons,” Lan said.

Xue-li smiled, “A good plan then,” she said, “But I forget - have you eaten, General? I am sure you would also like a wash.” She clasped her hands together and bowed again. “We should meet again, later today, perhaps after the midday meal. These things need to be discussed more in detail.”

Lan nodded and glanced over at Shun. A festival and a message from the gods themselves for the people. Would there be enough time to convince Jin that it needed a new ruler?


	6. Chapter 6

Within three days, at least two dozen barrels of salted fish arrived at the Zhao Manor-house, ready for distribution. Shun’s eyes had widened over the speed and volume of the delivery but Xue-li only shrugged.

“This is the first trading township close to many of Jin’s busiest fishing villages,” she said, “It is only natural that the fish trade comes through here. Master Zhao must have put in an earlier order for the festival. The arrival of these barrels are just a fortunate coincidence.”

It was a fortunate coincidence indeed. How much of this was this Master Zhao’s forethought, Lan wondered, and how much of this was Xue-li’s doing? How much control did she really have over the trading routes?

“Fish need to be cleaned before they are salted,” Shun had said as he looked over the barrels. The fish that had arrived had already been prepared and cured. “But the messages need to seem as if they are natural and not  _ planned.” _

The messages would be small, on tiny scraps of oiled paper held in the mouth of the fish. Lan and a few other members of the resistance group were volunteered to write the messages with a special, waterfast ink. Clear handwriting to ensure the messages were interpretable was key. The messages would only be placed in a small number of fish in each barrel - again, to make it seem it was an event that occurred of its own accord rather than was controlled, as it were, by man. Even though there were not many messages, Lan’s wrist ached by the time he finished writing them.

The Festival of the Dancing Light was held every year in Lizhou. The people of the surrounding villages would come to Lizhou to celebrate with their family and friends. In the days leading up to the event the size of the town doubled, then tripled, as taverns and inns were filled to the brim.

It was truly the perfect opportunity to watch what reactions there would be to their first few barrels of fish before the traders went to take their wares to other parts of Jin.

Growing up, Lan seen the hawkers who stood at market corners yelling out their wares. He had never imagined that one day he would be one of them. Yet, here he was, standing under the hot afternoon sun. He had wrapped a band of cloth around his head in an effort to catch the sweat that poured down his neck. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, stained with the brine the fish sat in. Even if someone was on the lookout for a Chen Lan, convicted traitor, Lan doubted he would be recognisable.

By the time his barrel was near empty,  sweat had soaked the back of Lan’s hanfu and his voice was hoarse from yelling prices. The sun was finally starting to dip and the afternoon sky was streaked with orange. Lan tried to swallow his impatience as he watched a local housewife examine the last two of the fish he had on offer.

“One is certainly bigger than the other. The other one is too small, but it looks more fresh. But if I buy that one, I am not sure if it will be enough…” She frowned and tapped a finger against her chin as she regarded the two fish.

It had been the same circular conversation, over and over again for the better part of an hour. Lan wished that the silly woman would hurry up and decided so he could pack up and find Shun.

“On the other hand, even if I were to buy the other one, would it be enough for all of us to eat? I have two other uncles and aunties  _ and  _ their children staying in my house tonight.”

Lan looked down at the fish that was lying on his table. Did any of them hold the messages that they had carefully planted? He huffed. Even if the last two fish  _ both  _ held the doctored messages, they would have sold enough fish today that it no longer mattered. It would still be a message that was randomly and - importantly -  _ seemingly naturally _ distributed amongst the people. Another bead of sweat rolled down the back of Lan’s neck. The sooner she bought the fish, the sooner this could be finished.

“Aunty,” he said, “These are my last two fish. How about I do a special deal just for you?”

The woman’s eyes lit up. Lan had to bite his lip to swallow a visible sigh of relief. Thank the Heavens for housewives and their love of a good bargain. “You pay for the one fish, and I will gift you the other. I have had good business today. Doing such a thing is good for luck.” He drew out a piece of paper and tried not to appear too hurried as he wrapped the fish up. “Good luck will bring me better business next time, yes?”

“Ah yes, of course.” The woman beamed at him and Lan wondered why he had not thought of this earlier. He could have been already on his way to Shun. The fish was thrust hastily into the woman’s hands, her money exchanged and then all Lan needed to do was to pack up. Then, he would be able to find Shun.

Shun was at a different area of the markets, also selling fish. He manned a larger stall with two others from the resistance group but it was easy for Lan to pick Shun out. His hair was half up and the rest a stringy mess down his back. With the newly grown beard that hid his face, Shun was also not recognisable as the glorious General who had rode from the Capital only a few months prior.

Shun looked up from his barrel of fish. Their eyes met. A slow smile spread over Shun’s face. Lan felt a tingle run down his spine. He walked over to Shun and grabbed his hand. His fingers slid over the edge of Shun’s palm. Lan waved to the man who had been selling fish with Shun in his stall before he tugged Shun into the dark shade of an alleyway and pushed  him up against the wall.

“Careful, Lan,” Shun said, “I smell like - “

Lan leaned forward. Shun’s words were cut off as Lan sealed Shun’s mouth with his own. His hands slid down the Shun’s arms and his fingers entwined themselves once again through the Shun’s. He felt the roughness of Shun’s thumb brush against the web between his thumb and forefinger. 

Shun’s hands slid out of Lan’s - there was a tug to the front of Lan’s hanfu -  then it was Lan’s back that was pressed against the wall. He could feel the rough slabs of stone under his thin cotton hanfu. Shun’s hands were on his hips, the warm of the others lips, pressed against his own.

They were both panting slightly when they broke apart.

Lan said, “I also stink of fish - ”

“- I missed you too,” said Shun, at the same time.

A grin spread across Lan’s face, slow and wide. He leaned up on his toes to nip Shun’s bottom lip. “Are you finished? We both need a long bath and a fresh set of clothes.”

“Nearly.” Shun glanced passed Lan to where his market stall was. “We -”

Shun’s market stall partner waved back at them with a roll of his eyes. “We just sold the last fish. I’ll pack up,” he said, “We’re pretty much finished anyway. You two go on ahead.”

Lan’s grin widened. He slipped a hand into Shun’s as his eyes flickered up to Shun’s face. There were still beads of sweat dotted over his forehead.“Do you think,” he said, drawing out each word carefully, “That the two of us could fit, into one tub?”

Shun’s cheeks coloured a rather delightful shade of pink.

  
  


 

* * *

  
  


  
  
  


The sky had darkened to a deep blue. Glimmers of light winked down at the town of Lizhou. The warm glow of lanterns that hung at every doorstep, and every market stall paved a golden path through Lizhou’s streets. Music filled the air. The smell of food drifted down from large steamer baskets and sizzling street side pans.

Two children ran down the street and weaved past Shun and Lan, screaming in delight. They held lanterns: two fish that bobbed on the end of sticks. In the darkness of the night it looked like the fish were dancing.

“This reminds me of the Lantern Festival at the end of the new year celebrations,” Shun said.

Shun’s hand was a warm, steady weight in Lan’s palm. Lan leaned into the touch. “Do you remember,” he asked, “how we would hang lanterns at home during the new year when we were children?”

“I remember,” Shun grumbled, “how you would climb all over me, step on my shoulders and  _ then on my head _ as you attempted to hang those lanterns up.”

Lan laughed. He remembered the solid broadness of Shun’s shoulders under his legs. The way Shun’s hands hand closed in a reassuring clasp round his ankles.  _ Don’t move so much Lan! Don’t fall! _

Lan gave Shun a light nudge. “Your own fault,” he said, “for being so very tall. You were so much more convenient than a ladder. You could move around if we weren’t in exactly the right position…”

Shun rolled his eyes. “You’re right,” he said. He gave Lan’s shoulder a poke. “You were a complete and and utter brat.”

Lan grinned and leaned into Shun’s side. “It must have been so taxing on you, oh patient one, to have put up with me.” His head nudged Shun’s shoulder. The corner of Shun’s lip twitched, and he gave Lan’s hand a comforting squeeze. Lan leaned up on tiptoe to kiss the edge of Shun’s mouth.

A hawker walked past them arms full of sticks that held glistening candied hawthorn. In the light of the lanterns, they flashed gold and warm. The way Shun’s eyes went wide with delight was comical and Lan had to hide a laugh behind one hand as they stopped and paid for two sticks of candy.

“Your tastes don’t change, do they?” Lan said. His eyes fluttered closed with relish as his teeth crunched through the candied fruit layer and tart sweetness flooded his mouth.

“We will get to your disgusting tofu later,” Shun said.

Lan opened his eyes to see that a layer of stickiness had already surrounded Shun’s mouth. He laughed openly this time and raised a sleeve to wipe some of the stickiness away. “All this time and you still eat like a child, Shun,” he said with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t subject you to the tofu tonight, but maybe if we could have some lamb skewers - or roast sweet potato...” His grumbling stomach agreed with his words.

Shun returned his grin. “Yes, yes, before you start dying of hunger we should find some real…” He trailed off and stopped in his tracks. His eyes drifted past Lan to look at something in the distance behind him. Lan frowned and turned his head. What was Shun looking at?  _ Oh…  _ There, two blocks ahead, was a large stall with shelves that were crammed row upon row full of  _ sky lanterns. _

Lan remembered the last time he and Shun had seen such a stall. It was part of the Lantern Festival ritual in their hometown to release a multitude of sky lanterns at the very end of the evening, each with their caster’s wishes written on them as messages to the gods.

At the time, a fifteen year old Shun had stared in wide eyed wonder. “ _ Do you think, Lan, that if I send one up, I could send a message to my father?” _

Lan, who had just seen his thirteenth winter and was full of knowledge, had scoffed.  _ “Do you really think that those silly paper things will reach the heavens? We all see them the next day, scattered amongst the grass just outside the town _ . _ ” _

Lan had watched as Shun’s face crumpled and the excitement faded out of his eyes. Shun never mentioned sky lanterns to Lan again.

The local legends around Lizhou spoke of a girl named Cai Xiaweng who lived with and cared for her blind young brother after her parents had died in illness. They were poor, but happy.

One summer afternoon, she was at the riverbank washing dirty laundry to earn coin. She brought her brother with her as she could not bear to leave him alone at home. Xiaweng’s brother, distracted by a sound he had heard, wandered down the river bed. His feet accidentally caught over a tangle of branches. He tripped, and with a soft splash, he fell into the river’s depths.

Xiaweng was distraught. All afternoon and evening she wandered the river, calling her brother’s name, looking for a sign of his body. Finally, in despair, she flung herself into the river to search for him.

The villagers were sure that she too, had died.

Then, at the rising of the moon, the river’s waters suddenly parted and a long, green scaled dragon flew out of the depths into the sky with two figures clinging onto his back. It was the local water dragon guardian, who had been moved by Xiaweng’s tears and obvious love for her brother. He rescued the both of them and together, all three flew up to a better life in the heavens.

Every year, the Dancing Light Festival was held to remember Xiaweng: her love, sacrifice and ultimate reward. As part of the Festival, the villages would release sky lanterns in the village square. On each sky lantern people would write a message -  a special wish to Cai Xiaweng, the girl who had gone to live amongst the dragons.

Lan tugged at Shun’s hand and stepped forward. “We should buy one and write our wishes on it.”

Shun’s brow furrowed and he didn’t move. “Lan,” he said, “I didn’t think you believed in this sort of thing?”

Lan stopped. His slid his fingers from Shun’s hands and reached up to cup Shun’s face. His thumb brushed across Shun’s cheekbone. “I don’t,” he said softly. “But I know that you do. This sort of thing is important to you, Shun.” Lan smiled. “Besides, if gaining a wish from Cai Xiaweng will bring us luck, that is a good thing, is it not? I’ll write a wish and we can go and release it together.”

Shun’s fingers wrapped around Lan’s hand. “But Lan,” he said, “We can’t just go and write my mother’s name.”

Lan huffed. “Don’t be daft. Of course I am not going to do that. A generic wish like peace and happiness - that would be safe enough, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that what we want, in the end?”

The warm golden light of the surrounding lanterns illuminated Shun’s eyes. Lan’s heart swelled at the happiness that radiated from them. Shun turned his head and kissed Lan’s palm. “And love,” Shun said. “Love is also important.” His voice was full of warmth.

_ Peace. Joy. Love _ .

Lan wrote the words on the fine rice paper with deft, precise strokes of the brush before holding the lantern at arm's length to wait for the ink to dry. They moved to the market square where the lanterns were to be released. Shun’s hands were warm and steady on Lan’s as they lit the candle at the base of the lantern together and, ever so slowly, let go.

Their lantern floated upwards, a speck of gold in a star studded sky, to join a multitude of other golden lights that floated upwards in the balmy spring evening air. Lan craned his head skyward. The whole sky was awash with drops of gold rising up as offerings to the Heavens. Their lantern turned around and Lan could barely make out his own writing -   _ peace, joy, love  _ \- before the characters became to small to be discernible.

“Do you think…?” Shun asked

Lan wrapped his arms around Shun’s middle and leaned his head against Shun’s chest. “Yes,” he said. “She will hear us and our wishes will be granted. You, me and your mother. We will live together with peace, joy and love.”

“On a little farm?” Shun said. “A little farm with a cow, and maybe chickens?”

Lan buried his face in the robes of Shun’s hanfu and laughed. “Yes,” he said. His shoulders shook. “You can have your chickens.”

A brisk breeze swept past them, ruffling a few stray locks of Lan’s hair. Lan looked up. He frowned. In the distance ahead, the stars had disappeared. They were obstructed by a wave of rolling grey.  _ Clouds _ …?

The wind picked up, whipping at their robes. The trees lining the streets around them shook and leaves scattered past. The clouds were approaching at an alarming rate.

Shun’s arm tightened around Lan’s shoulders. “The skies were clear all day,” he said. “This is strange. Where have these clouds come from?”

Lan shivered. A deep chill had settled and the wind had grown icy.  _ That smell _ …. Lan took into a deep lungful of air. It almost smelled like-

Lightning flashed. In the distance thunder growled. The air was full of the deep, earthy scent of rain.

Lightning flashed again.

Lan squinted. The lightning flashed a cold blue as it pierced through the stormclouds: coils of shadow and light wrapped around one another. The rumbling thunder sounded like the roar of waves breaking on a shore. One part of the clouds looked like a leg, the other a tail. If examined closely it almost appeared as if the clouds were -

“Dragons!” A voice called out in the crowd around them and it echoed until hundreds of voices filled the air.

“ _ Dragons! _ ”

“There are dragons amongst us!”

“The heavens have sent their messengers!”

“ _ There are dragons - everywhere!” _

The skies then opened and all the voices were drowned out in sheets and sheets of torrential rain.


	7. Chapter 7

The pitter-patter of raindrops on the oilskin canopy fell into rhythm with the gentle sway of the cart that Lan, Shun, three other merchants and ten barrels of salted fish were packed into for the journey to the capital. The newly grown beard on Lan’s chin itched. He refused to give in to the urge to scratch it. Instead, he reached across the smooth wooden seat until he found the warmth of Shun’s fingers. He curled his hand around them. Shun’s hands underneath his were rough, calloused and as always impossible large.

Lan flickered his eyes up to Shun’s face. Shun raised an eyebrow. A corner of the flap that held the cutout for a window in the oilskin closed had come undone. The world outside was coated in a film of muddled grey. Lan shivered. It was cold for the last week of Spring.

“We should have been at the capital’s gates by now,” Lan said. It was already late afternoon.

“We are travelling slower than usual for this load and these roads,” Ah-Chung was the leader of his merchant group. Solid and swarthy, he sat with his arms crossed against his chest. “The rain softens the roads and risks us being stranded in the mud. We’ll get there soon enough.”

Lan felt Shun’s thumb slide over the web between Lan’s thumb and forefinger. Lan’s grip on Shun’s hand tightened. It was late afternoon and the capital’s gates closed to outsiders at sundown. Only those with a special pass could enter the capital’s gates at night. They could not risk being closely examined.

“Lan,” Shun said, voice just ghosting above Lan’s ear. “We will get there in time. Besides, you and I are meant to be dead, yes? No one will recognise us.”

Lan nodded. Of course, that was also true. The cart lurched forward and Lan’s stomach lurched with it. The air reeked of salted fish. Lan swallowed against the increasing nausea. Xue-li was travelling on horseback and would have long reached the capital by now.  

Lan looked up at Shun. “The plan is,” he said, for the third time that day, “That she will go to the palace first, to pay her respects first before going to her home. When we arrive at the safehouse, there will be ways to pass a message onto her.” They would finalise the last of their plans. The date of Yuzheng’s trial was in two days.

“Arriving at the capital's gates in the late afternoon means as likely as not we’ll get there at the tail end of the City Guard’s watch,” Shun said. “They’ll be tired and itching to be relieved so won't want to ask too many questions.” His thumb ran across the back of Lan’s hand.

“It was quick thinking of you,” Ah-Chung said. The cart jostled again. “The dragons, I mean.” He leaned forward. “The shapes in the clouds looked just like them! As soon as the crowd had started talking about it, anyone who wasn’t blind could see the outlines.”

“The whole town was talking about it.” Ru Zheng was the youngest of the three and good with a bow and arrow. Her eyes lit up as he spoke. “For the last week, you couldn’t away from it at all. The dragons. And then when people realised that some of the fish were  _ proclaiming the next emperor... _ ”

“But - ” The words died at the tip of Lan’s tongue. It had been a nameless voice in the crowd that had proclaimed dragons even before Lan had managed to gather his wits about him. Ah-Chung was right. The dragons, once suggested, could not be unseen. 

“That storm was good timing,” Shun said, “for our planned attack. They have the numbers and also the city is the ground that they are used to. We cannot change any of that. What we can change though - is morale. It is difficult to raise a sword when you do not believe in who it is you fight for, or if you believe even the Heavens themselves have changed their favour.”

Lan nodded. “Only  _ if _ the talk has also reached the capital. We have two weeks.” He looked up at Shun and at the other faces in the cart. So full of faith, confidence. Would two weeks have been enough time for the rumours to have penetrated the thick walls of the capital?

Ru Zheng grinned and tapped at one of the barrels with her feet. “We still have a few days once we’re  _ inside _ ,” she said. “Our people will make sure that the city will have heard of the dragons that appeared in the sky at Lizhou. Then the  _ fish _ will go about and do their good work. The Grand Duke may well have anticipated our attack but he will not have anticipated this!”

The cart jerked as it stopped, sending everyone lurching forwards. Lan peeled back the oilskin a flap a little further. In the grey haze ahead, the brown stones of the capital’s walls loomed. In front of them was a long line of carts and carriages, each waiting to be checked before the entry to the city.

They had arrived.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


“Bringing salted fish from from the East Sea?” The front covering of the cat was peeled back and two faces peered into the cart. “Who do you have here? Five merchants? It takes so many men to bring over a cart of salted fish?”

Lan’s grip on Shun’s hand turned knuckle white. It was a good thing that two barrels obscured their joined hands from the eyes of the City Guard. If he was hurting Shun, Shun’s face did not show it.

“Ah, good sir.” Ah-Chung clasped his hands together and bowed. “These two younger brothers, they are from the fishing villages alongside the Eastern Sea. They have shown interest in joining our little merchant party and so we thought we would bring them along, show them what we do and test their skills.” He smiled. “Of course, if they are good, next time, they won’t need us to accompany them.”

Lan took a deep breath and tried to make his shoulders and arms as relaxed as he could.

“Surely having two extra men on board isn’t such a crime as to deny our entry into the capital?” Ah-Chung said.

“Wait, from the Eastern Sea Villages?” A third face popped into view. Under his helmet this new guard’s cheeks were ruddy red. His eyes shone. “That’s where my old hometown is! Which village are you from?” He peered at Shun and Lan’s faces. “You two look familiar - my name is Lu Bao but everyone calls me Xiao Bao. Were we once neighbours?”

Lan’s throat went dry. “Oh,” he managed to croak. “Which village are you from then?” Desperately, he tried to conjure up in his mind the map of the area to the East of Lizhou.

“Oh, of course,” Xiao Bao said, “I’m from Haibei.”

_ Haibei _ . Lan’s mind was blank. Which village, under the Heavens, was Haibei?

“Ah, Haibei.” Shun’s voice rumbled with warmth and familiarity. “I am afraid, little brother, that we are not quite neighbours. We are from Haixi, half a day’s ride south. It gets quite busy when the imperial army and navy are stationed there for training.” Shun tugged at Lan’s hold. Lan forced his fingers to loosen. Shun slid his hand out, to loop his arm around Lan’s shoulders. “My younger brother and I heard the stories from the soldiers about the glory of the capital and when an opportunity came to come here and earn coin,  _ well - _ ” He shrugged. “Wasn’t the decision obvious?”

The first guard frowned. He looked at Shun, then at Lan, then back at Shun. “The two of you are brothers?” He asked. His eyes narrowed, “You look nothing alike.”

“Ah, that’s because  _ my older brother _ here takes after our father and me, our mother,” Lan offered the man a bright smile. “If course, it raises everyone’s eyebrows wherever we go, but that’s the truth of it.”

“Let them go,” Xiao Bao said. “They are from Haixi which, I think, is close enough to my home to call them my neighbours. Besides, we from the Eastern Sea Villages are an honest bunch.” He thumped his own chest, “I can attest to that. Master Zhao’s merchant company are no stranger to the capital and, besides-” his round face disappeared around the corner of the cart’s covering then reappeared, “-besides, Captain, have you seen how many more we need to process before sundown? The Night Guard will not be happy if they come to relieve us and there’re still so many waiting for processing.”

The first guard stared at Shun and Lan long and hard. He harrumphed. “Fine,” he said. “On your word, Xiao Bao.” He shook his head and waved a hand.

They were safe to go in.

Their cart lurched back into movement. Lan turned to stare at Shun. “How did you-”

Shun shrugged. “We were posted to Haixi for a season of training once. The people there are good and trusting,” he said, and laughed. “Lucky for us, that little brother wasn’t from Haixi  _ itself _ . I wouldn’t have been much help if he asked who were my actual neighbours!”

Shun’s arm was still looped around Lan’s shoulders. It was warm and heavy: a solid, comforting weight. Lan took in another deep breath and closed his eyes. He leaned his cheek against Shun’s shoulder.

“Hey.” Lan heard Shun’s voice as a set of vibrations that rumbled through his chest. “Why is that you have never called me  _ older brother _ before? Even when were were children and you were  _ meant  _ to address me, your elder as - ow!”

Lan opened his eyes to find Shun laughing at him. He made sure he poked Shun’s ribs  _ hard  _ again, just for good measure.

As they drove through the city gates, a poster in red came into view through the oilskin flap. Lan reached out and peeled the flap back for a better view.  _ Wanted _ , he read read,  _ Outlaw Convicts. Reward will be given for capture _ . Lan’s eyes scanned down. A leaden weight sank to sink to the pit of his stomach. There, looking back at him, were two faces and underneath them names: Cheng Lan and Wei Shun.

So, they were not that dead, after all.

The wanted posters were everywhere. Little red squares on walls and street corners. Lan tied the oilskin flap down tight so that he could not see them anymore. His stomach churned. How long had these posters come up? Had anyone within the rebel movement knowledge of this?

One large red poster was pasted on the gate outside their safe house. Their faces looked ahead with dull, lifeless eyes.

“This is too much.” Ru Zheng scowled. As soon as she hopped off the cart, she strode to the poster, hand out to rip it from the wall.

Shun caught her wrist just in time. “No.”

“What?” Ru Zheng’s eyes widened. “The two of you could bear such accusations against -”

Lan shook his head. “It is not that,” he said. “There are posters stuck on nearly every wall in the capital. An ordinary passer by would walk past, notice it perhaps, but not more than that. For someone to be tearing down official notices on the wall - well they must have some sort reason to  _ not _ want that poster up any more. So, to tear down the poster on the gate of the safe house - ”

“-you may as well announce to all the capital that we are living here.” Shun’s eyes met Lan’s before he dropped Ru Zheng’s wrist. He clasped his hands together and gave a slight bow. “I appreciate the thought, little sister.”

“Besides,” Lan said, “If the guards were to recognise us, they would have done so already.”

“Hey all of you,” Ah-Chung’s voice called from the cart. “These barrels of fish aren’t going to unload themselves. If our two new visitors want to learn the job we have for them, they can start by helping unload.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Will staring at that map any longer change anything?” Lan said.

The merchant houses were exactly that on the surface: large warehouses to hold goods before they went to market. Underneath though, joined by a series of trapdoors and passageways, was a network of secret rooms. Perhaps once they were designed to store wares that needed to be kept within the deep cool of the earth, or as a place for overspill of the items stored above. Now, they were sleeping quarters and planning rooms for the Pine Resistance.

In the center of the largest of these rooms was a table on which was spread a map of capital. Shun stood there by candlelight, hands on either side of the map as he leaned over it. When Lan spoke, he looked up and managed a wan smile.

“I think we may need to change our plans.”

“Oh?” Lan walked over to Shun’s side. He looped an arm around Shun’s middle and leaned his cheek against Shun’s shoulder. “So, we know that there will be two official guard formations,” he said. “There will be one that will leave the palace with the royal retinue and a second that will leave with the prisoners. They will join here.” He pointed on the map. “Which is where we will attack.”

“Yes,” Shun said. He touched the attack point on the map. “However, it makes no sense to wait until the guard numbers have doubled before we attack. It will make things much more difficult.”

Lan nodded. “But then we will have to choose whether to rescue the prisoners or attack the Grand Duke. If we succeed in rescuing the prisoners and leave the Grand Duke alive, we may very well endanger the Fifth Prince who is still under house arrest in the palace. If we attack the Grand Duke and the King, we may endanger the prisoners.”

Shun sagged and nodded. “And if we split into two groups, then that weakens our numbers.” He turned his head and brushed his lips against Lan’s forehead. “I just think with the numbers of guards - a distraction would be useful.”

“A distraction…” Lan’s fingers tightened in the front of Shun’s hanfu and pulled him down for a proper kiss. Shun’s lips were soft and pliant against his own. Lan nipped Shun’s bottom lip before pulling back. “Don’t forget, a number of the men in the palace guard will be ours.”

Shun nodded. His hands - always warm - closed over Lan’s. “They won’t be the majority, though,” he said, “Or else Xue-li wouldn’t need our group.” He brought Lan’s fingers to his lips and pressed kisses on the fingertips. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Lan jerked his hand back. “ _ What _ ?”

Shun met his eyes, “There is a good chance,” he said, “that we will attack and not win. This is my mother —”

“And it was  _ my  _ fault that your family has been dragged into this whole mess,” Lan hissed. “Without me, the two of you would still be in Yangnan.”

“ — I wish that you could leave the capital. It is not safe for you here. The posters have your face everywhere — ”

“They also bear your face,” Lan said. He reached up a hand and cupped the side of Shun’s cheek. His thumb stroked along Shun’s cheekbone. “It is your head on those walls alongside me. Your mother…” He shook his head. “I remember, growing up, she always made sure there was something special set aside for me when I came to the kitchens to visit you. She defended me in front of the household steward. She never said a word when I used to climb into your bed in the freezing winter nights.” Lan bit his lip. “And when I came into your household as a convicted traitor to the kingdom, as your  _ slave —” _

“ _ Lan —  _ ”

Lan pressed two fingers against Shun’s slips. “When I came into your household as nothing more than a slave, she treated me as if she was her son. I am not going to stand by and watch her die, Shun. I cannot stand by and  _ not _ fight by your side.”

Shun’s eyes held Lan’s in the flickering candlelight. He swallowed. “Alright,” he said. “If that is what you want, Lan.”

The corner of Lan’s lip twitched. “Besides, Shun, how were you going to propose sneaking me back out anyway? The three gates along the city wall are well guarded. Anyone leaving or entering must state their case. Our faces are plastered everywhere…”

Shun snorted. His fingers wrapped around Lan’s, threading through them. “Aren’t you glad then that we kept up with sparring -  _ ow!” _

Lan lifted his foot from where he had stomped on Shun’s. He rolled his eyes and stood on tip-toe to kiss Shun’s cheek. “Yes, yes. Whatever you say.” He couldn’t help the grin though that broke over his face. “You are a good teacher.”

His eyes moved past Shun’s to the flickering candles behind them. Above the bright dots of light were faint streams of pale grey smoke, barely discernible to the eye. Smoke...  

“ _ Smoke! _ ” Lan said.

“What?”   
  


Lan shook his head and pulled away from Shun. “Xue-li said that she has been building a collection of weapons for a long time down here. We need to ask, has she also built up a stock of the black fire -  _ gunpowder _ ?”

Shun walked forward to stand beside Lan. His fingers traced the markings on the map. “Smoke bombs,” he said. “Haze and noise. The trial and execution will beheld at the main square. All paths eventually lead there. If we plant smoke bombs here, here and here, it will create enough haze as if there was a  _ real  _ fire.”

“And then noise —”

“Firecrackers,” Shun said.

Lan nodded. Firecrackers were easy enough to buy  — they were sold throughout the year for weddings, new businesses or new homes. 

“We set them different areas to the smoke bombs - here,” Lan pointed to the map, “and perhaps, here. If they are launched at the same time as the smoke, no one will know where the source of the explosions is. People will be afraid. They will try to leave —”

“But the palace guards will be everywhere. It will be chaos. That will be the moment when the people we have planted can turn and swoop in, and maybe stand a fighting chance. We find Mother and Official Wu. It will buy us enough time to get them to safety before attacking the Grand Duke.”

Lan tugged on Shun’s sleeve. “Or,” he said, “we could save your mother and Official Wu — and leave.”

“No.” Shun pulled his arm away. He took a step back. His eyes were hard when they met Lan’s; his jaw was clenched.  “No, Lan. For what he did to you, to your family, I want him to feel pain, to  _ bleed. _ ” Lan looked up. In the candlelight, Shun’s brown eyes flashed with gold. “All those years Lan. Your family. Don’t you want to avenge their blood?” 

Lan looked down. “I would rather,” he said, voice soft, “that you were safe.” He closed his eyes. Hands curled into fists by his side. “The dead are dead already. Nothing will draw their blood from the ground and make them whole again.”

A warm grip scooped his hands up and then Shun’s arms were curled tight around Lan. Lan pressed his cheek against Shun’s chest and wound his arms around his middle. He could hear the steady thud of Shun’s heart under his ear. Shun was so hard, so solid. 

“Don’t be silly.” Shun’s lips brushed over Lan’s forehead. “We have our distraction, we have our men planted in the guard, and we have each other. Nothing will happen to either of us. We will carry out the vengeance that your family’s blood cries out for.”

Lan nodded and kept his eyes squeezed tight shut. Shun’s heartbeat was strong and steady. His body was warm against Lan. 

If only such promises could be true.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

The morning of the attack dawned a clear crystal blue. Under the wan rays of the early morning sun, the main square was already thick with the press of bodies. Hawkers walked through the crowd. Their voices carried in the warm morning air, advertising food and sweets. It could have been a day of any festival orcelebration, except it was not.

The faces of the Pine Resistance were dotted through the crowd. Lan lifted his chin and met the eye of Ah-Chung in the distance. He gave Lan a small nod. Lan returned the gesture. Xue-li was the only one who was yet to arrive. She would ride with the royal procession as part of her duties, so they would not see her until it was nearly time for the attack.

The faint beats of drums filled the air. The voices in the crowd stilled, all faces turning to the eastern entrance of the main square. The drumbeats always announced the approach of the royal procession - and this time, also the prisoners.

In the distance Lan could see Shun’s mother, Lin Yuzheng and Official Wu Heng-shi. Two ragged figures, holding onto each other as they marched with a full guard. Lan’s eyes flickered up. Shun’s face was turned in that direction, expression blank: devoid of any emotion. Lan reached out, grabbed Shun’s hand and offered a small squeeze. Shun’s fingers seized down in a vice-like grip.

“Soon,” Lan said.

Shun’s head jerked up and down. His face was unreadable. Lan tugged at his hand and Shun’s hold loosened enough that he could slip it free and and grab onto the hilt of his own sword. Just a little longer. They needed to wait until the two processions were both visible in the main square and then—

The processions rounded the corner. There was the faintest sound of a hiss, then a volley of bangs echoed from all directions. Smoke and haze filled the area.

“Fire!” someone in the crowd screamed - and again, “ _ Fire!” _

The square was full of shifting bodies, pushing against each other in an attempt to move forward and flee. The processions had stopped, and were turning around, but the common people blocked all the exits. Guards shouted for people to move out of the way. There was a crush of bodies at one of the exits and some of the commoners had already crumbled to the ground.

Lan and Shun surged forward. The guards around the prisoners swirled in chaotic panic. One of them turn around to face his friend - only to be met by a quick stab of a sword to the gut. His attacker raised his head slightly and Lan could see the imprint of a small pine tree in the hilt of his sword. He gave Lan the slightest of nods, and then turned to slash the neck of a second guard. Blood splashed onto the ground. The faint glint of metal next to him told Lan that Shun had also unsheathed his sword.

Lan ducked as the point of a spear sliced through the air where his neck had been. He kicked a leg out against his assailant’s heel and then brought his sword up — it met the hilt of the spear in a dull thud. Lan grit his teeth as the spear pressed down on his sword. His arms screamed. He took a step forward as if he was about to try for another blow. The guard facing him smirked. Lan shifted as if to move forward but then stepped sideways, sliding his sword out from under the spear. The guardsman toppled forward, unbalanced for one brief moment. It was enough. Lan thrust his sword forward and  _ twisted _ — and the man crumpled to the ground.

In front of them, he could see Yuzheng and Official Wu, bound with rope, not chain. Lan’s heart fluttered in his chest. All they had to do was to move forward and they would be able to cut the prisoners loose. Around them, Lan could see guards still turning in confusion. Some moved to attack defend against the attackers, only to be cut down from behind bymembers of the resistance wearing the armour of the royal guards. More and more guards looked around warily, their swords up tight against their bodies. Their question could be seen in their eyes: who was friend and who was foe? 

“Lan,” Shun’s voice broke above the clash of metal against metal. Lan whirled around, raising his sword just in time to block the downward arc of a sword on its way to meet his neck. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He blinked and dodged to the side — just in time.

His attacker smirked up him and brought his sword down in another arc. When their swords met, Lan’s arms felt as if they would be jarred out of their sockets. He sidestepped. They rounded on each other. Lan’s sword was still streaked red with blood. He could hear the roar of the crowd around him, the clash of metal against metal.

When the guard charged at him this time, Lan took couple of steps back. The guard’s smirk widened. “I’m going to corner you, little rabbit,” he said, “and then skewer you whole.”

He took one, two steps forward. Lan lowered his stance, watching for any sign of an opening. The guard raised his sword. Lan feinted to the side. The guard shifted as if to block. The movement tilted his neck, exposing a sliver of pale, vulnerable skin. Lan grit his teeth and brought his sword around and up. The metal of his sword sliced through flesh as if it was soft lard. There was red everywhere. A warm splash hit his cheek. Lan swallowed down the sudden rise of bile in the back of his throat and stepped over the body at his feet.

There was an opening in the crowd ahead. Lan met the eyes of another rebel before charging past him towards the prisoners. Shun was already halfway there.

“Shun!” Yuzheng’s voice reached Lan’s ears. There was shock and relief in Yuzheng’s eyes. She was wearing the typical white prison garb, hair in disarray and deep shadows under her eyes. Lan’s stomach clenched. She looked so thin.

“Mother.” Shun was already at her side, a knife in his hand tearing through rope. Lan stepped past them. From the corner of his eye, hesaw Yuzheng raise a shaking hand to her son’s face.

“Official Wu,” Lan said as he sheathed his own sword and pulled out a knife. A quick glance around him showed that the rebels were holding their own in the smoke-filled haze, but they needed to get the prisoners out quickly.

Official Wu’s eyes widened. “Cheng...Cheng Lan? You, is it really you?”

Lan nodded. He cut through the rope binding the Official Wu’s hands behind his back before bending down to cut at the length of robe that fettered Official Wu’s ankles.

“How, how is this true? I thought that you were — ”

“I was sentenced to slavery.” Lan grabbed one of Official Wu’s hands. “But I was given, as a gift, to General Wei Shun.” His eyes flickered to Shun who was helping his mother stand. Lan shook his head. “You were my father’s mentor. I will tell you of the details later, Official. We need to get you to safety.”

Official Wu nodded as Lan pulled his arm over his shoulders. 

“Quickly,” Lan said. “We have men waiting at the edge of the crowd to take you away to our safehouse.”

There was a carriage in an alleyway just outside the main square. Driving through the labyrinth of alleyways that connected each of the main roads of the capital was slower, but it would mean far less risk of being seen. They could not afford to be caught.

Another explosion echoed in the distance. The smoke in the courtyard thickened. Lan coughed into his sleeve. “Come on.” He could see an opening in the distance. Shun was already ahead of them, one arm around his mother, the other at the sword by his slide. Lan’s fingers curled over the hilt of his own sword.

Bodies moved around them. The haze stung Lan’s eyes. The air was full of the clash of steel against steel and indiscernible cries. Lan could see a flash of silver here, the faint outline of a pine tree there. It was hard to tell who was winning the battle but no one jumped in front of themto block their path.

“This way.” Lan tugged Official Wu around the corner and ducked into an alley that paralleled the main street of the city.

Yuzheng was already standing by the carriage. “Shun,” she said. Her hands gripped Shun’s elbows, knuckles white.

“Mother,” Shun said. He leaned forwards, brushing his lips against her cheek. “They will take you somewhere safe. I will join you later.” His eyes were dark as they met Lan’s for a brief moment. “I have something left to do.”

Yuzheng’s eyes slid to Lan and she gave a barely discernible nod. Her fingers grazed Shun’s cheek. “Do what you have to do, then,” she said.

Lan held an arm out for Offical Wu to steady himself with as he stepped into the carriage. “We need to hurry,” he said. “They are distracted by the attack now, but someone will notice the two of you are gone.”

Official Wu took one step up into the carriage and then stopped. The lines on his face were deep and haggard. He patted Lan's hand. “Thank you, Cheng Lan.”

Lan swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. “You were my father’s mentor,” he said, voice hoarse. “I am thankful I was able to help you today.”

Official Wu’s smile was sad. “Your father was a good man,” he said. “He would be proud to have such a brave son.”

The words sunk into Lan’s stomach as heavy as a weight of lead. Lan nodded. “Thank you, Official.” He dipped his head as he stepped back.

As the carriage started to move away from them, Lan turned his head towards Shun. “It is not too late,” he said, “to leave. Your mother is safe. Official Wu is safe. We could leave the city with her and— ”

Shun has turned and was already walking back towards the main square. “I’m going to find the Grand Duke,” he promised, “and I will make him feel every bit of the pain that he has inflicted on you.”

Lan swallowed again against a throat that was far too dry. “Shun— ” he said again, but Shun continued walking. Lan’s fingers closed around the hilt of his sword as he put one foot in front of the other, to follow Shun back into the fray.

Most of the haze had lifted by the time they arrived back at the main square. The guards had thinned, pushed back into a central group defendingthe Grand Duke and King. The rebels surrounded them, pushing forward against any crack or weakness in their defense. Bodies were littered everywhere, although very few, Lan noted, were rebels.

“This is for you, Lan.” Shun bared his teeth and charged forward, sword already out. Two royal guards stepped towards him but Shun ducked, weaved and impaled one man on the sword of the other before twisting his own sword in the second man’s left side where thearmour was weak.

Lan’s eyes followed Shun until he was nothing more than another head of black hair in the thick of men. Most of the losses were not theirs. The royal guards were surrounded. There was a chance that they would be able to win this. Kill the Grand Duke, kill the King, rescue the Fifth Prince Ming-song and make him king. But above all those things there was one that was more important: Shun needed to make it out of this battle alive.

Another guard walked towards Lan. Lan unsheathed his sword with barely a second thought, and it sang as it swung up meet his attacker’s. The force of it drove Lan three steps back. When Lan lifted his head, he could see Shun over his attacker’s shoulder, a brown clad figure steadily weaving through the crowd towards the center.

Lan’s attacker pulled back. Lan narrowed his eyes and shifted the grip on his sword. There was the slight twitch of the other man’s arm and Lan brought his sword down to meet the other’s blade, blocking it just short of it skewering his middle. Three men had surrounded Shun but their technique was no match for Shun’s.

There was a flicker of movement. Lan’s attacker turned his head and the opening allowed Lan to pull back just a fraction, before he also caught sight of what it was. An arrow twisted through the air. It flew above the heads of the crowd in a smooth arc towards the center of the main square, and pierced King Ming-wang’s chest in a spray of crimson blood. His face went white and a strangled cry emerged from his throat before he toppled forward. A cry of triumph rose from the rebels. Lan’s eyes widened and he took a step back, barely dodging the next sweep of the sword.

_ The rebels had brought no archers with them today… _

A loud horn blast pierced the air. Lan’s face caught Xue-li’s in the distance. “Go!” he managed to call out, “retreat!” before the sword was knocked spinning out of his hands. There was the rumbling of drum beats and a multitude of new guards streamed into the square. A cold blade of steel touched Lan’s neck.

Lan couldn’t see Shun anywhere.

  
  
  
  


Shun did not see the arrow until the King’s body slumped to the ground with a dull thud. A cry of victory erupted from the crowd but the sight in front of him was impossible.  _ They had brought no archers _ . Shun spun around in time to see a flood of guards enter the main square. He saw Xue-li at the back of the crowd signalling for a retreat. Six men rushed at him all at once. Shun managed to cut the first two down and maim the third but there was no end to the attackers. In the end, even he could not defeat six men all at once.

They bound Shun’s arms behind him and held a sword to his neck for good measure as they marched him through the streets. There were two guards at his elbow and yet another two who flanked them.

He couldn’t twist his head, couldn’t see Lan. Lan had followed him back into the battle, Shun was sure of it, but how far behind him had Lan been? When the extra guards had swept into the main square, there had been just enough time for Xue-li and at least half of the Pine Resistance to retreat. Had Lan managed to escape it all? Or had he also been captured?

In the distance, the palace walls loomed up in front of him. Shun stopped in his tracks. He had assumed that they were heading towards the prisons in the the northeast of the city. The palace prisons were rarely used. Why were they heading towards the palace?

Something sharp poked into his back.

“Oi! Move.”

A muscle ticked in Shun’s jaw. His hands clenched into fists in the small of his back. He forced himself to move again.

Lan had been far enough behind Shun that perhaps there had been time for him to also turn around and retreat. Lan had never wanted to continue this fight. If Lan had managed to escape, then he and Mother could break away from the rebels and disappear off into oblivion. With their numbers diminished and their members in the royal guard now revealed, there would be no way the Pine Resistance could think about launching a second attack in the near future.

Lan  _ must _ have managed to escape.

At the gates of the palace, the procession divided into two. Shun grunted as he was pushed towards the left. The group in front of him shifted and separated, one half moving towards the right and the other left with some of the other prisoners. In the distance, a figure caught Shun’s eye. Shun lunged forward, stopped only by hands around his arms and the sword that was pressed to his neck.  _ Lan? _

Lan’s arms were also bound behind him. His shoulders were hunched, head down. A breeze blew past him, ruffling the stray strands of hair that flew loose from his top knot. Lan looked up. Their eyes met. Lan’s eyes widened and his mouth opened only to be shoved forward by the butt of a spear before he could utter any sound. He and his guards walked around the corner — and disappeared.

“Lan!” Shun’s arms strained in their ropes. “Where— where are they taking Lan? What are you going to do with Lan?”

“Cheng Lan?” The laughter from the man holding the sword to Shun’s neck made Shun’s blood run cold. “Don’t you worry about that, my lord General. Just you focus on behaving yourself. You wouldn’t want any of your actions to have repercussions on little Cheng Lan, would you?”

Shun swallowed the snarl.  _ Repercussions on Lan _ . He looked around but his arms were bound, his guards were armed and there were far too many of them. Shun swallowed against the bitter bile that rose in his throat.  _ I have invested much of my time, taming him _ , the Grand Duke had said. Now Lan was in the Grand Duke’s hands again, and it was all Shun’s fault.

They took Shun under the palace to the catacombs of cells usually reserved only for royals or nobles who had displeased the king. The sword stayed at his neck until Shun’s arms were finally unbound and the cell door behind him slammed shut. Shun rushed against the bars as soon as he was free.  

“Lan, where the hell have you taken Lan?” Shun wrapped his fingers around the bars. He could feel the cold steel press into his palms. “You— you go and tell your master, the Grand Duke, if he dares so much as lays a  _ finger _ on Lan’s head I will—”

A cough behind him interrupted his words. “Really, General, do you honestly think that if you continue to yell, they will actually answer you?”

Shun spun around. His eyes widened and the words died in his throat. His hands on the prison bars went slack.

There, in the cell with him, was the Fifth Prince, Ming-song.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahhahaha please don't kill me. I promise a happy ending for these two, they just have a bit more to go through before they get there. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

“Your highness,” Shun said, with a dip of his head.

Prince Ming-song looked a mess. His hair surrounded his face in a cloud of black. He was, like all the other prisoners, dressed in a long, white prison shirt, printed with the character 犯 for convict at the front and at the back.

“Technically, General,” Ming-song said, “I am now officially a traitor to the state. They moved me down here today from house arrest.” He barked out a laugh. “My uncle tells me that there was a band of rebels who stormed the main square today, wearing the pine tree that is my mark. My brother the King was killed by them.” Ming-song took a step forward.“I _told_ them I did not want any movement yet!”

“Xue-li didn’t think there was time to wait.” Shun took a step back. Ming-song stopped, closed his eyes and heaved out a long breath.

 _If we wait for misfortune or illness to strike our King Ming-wang before we attack, will see the Grand Duke find an excuse to execute the Fifth Prince too,_ Xue-li had said. Shun swallowed. Had they now hastened the Grand Duke’s hand?

“The King and the Grand Duke have already ordered another town destroyed because the people voiced their objections over the taxes. I know, that you did not want to move against your own brother, but how long, your highness, did you want to wait for?”

Ming-song’s shoulders sagged. He turned his head away. “My eldest brother,” he said softly, “had always been unable to critically think through any advice that he was given. Especially when it came to my uncle. It was his greatest weakness.”

Shun’s eyebrows shot up. “And so, Jin should suffer while you excuse him?”

“I — no,” Ming-song shook his head. “You don’t understand. We all grew up together as boys. We had the same lessons, we played together. All of us, except Ming-yu because he was often sick. He was my _brother._ I had hoped — I had hoped that he would just _listen_.”

“Your highness, your brother placed you under house arrest for simply objecting to injustice.”

Ming-song swallowed and nodded. “I know,” he said. “But that was because of my uncle —”

“Who is always by his side,” Shun said.

Ming-song’s voice was quiet. “I just wish that Xue-li had _told_ me.”

Silence stretched between them as they looked at each other. Ming-song tilted his head. “Anyway, General, I thought that you were meant to be dead.”

“Yes.” Shun could still taste the hope that fluttered in his chest on the day they had left Xu. It lay rancid and sour at the back of his throat. “Yes, I had thought so too.”

“When Lan first asked me about my little group of supporters, he indicated that he was not interested in joining us. Xue-li, however, can be a little...heavy handed. I apologise, General,” Ming-song said, dipping his head towards Shun, “if she pulled you into all of this against your will.”

Shun shook his head. He turned to look out beyond the bars of their cell. “No, it was not Xue-li,” he said. “The Grand Duke arrested my mother and Official Wu Heng-shi on the charges of treason.” He remembered the overwhelming anger, the disbelief. He remembered wanting to skewer his sword through the Grand Duke. “I would have tried to rescue them anyway. This was just a way to have more help.” Their path had been decided as soon as he had entered Yangnan and found his house empty and his mother arrested.

“And did you manage to save them, at least?”

Shun jerked his head in a nod, and then looked away.

“So, it really couldn’t be helped.” Ming-song pressed his lips together. “Well, at least some good has come of this. When under house arrest, it is difficult to hear of news in the capital.” He started to pace the length of his cell, his hands clasped behind him. “This — well, I cannot argue that it was not a smart move on my uncle’s part. It has flushed out all my supporters amongst the royal guard and sent every one of them who has not been arrested into hiding. Still, I can understand Xue-li’s decision.”

Shun frowned. He remembered what Xue-li had said when he first met. He also remembered Prince Ming-yu, the Ninth Prince of Jin, walking down the steps with two pigeons. _What if they needed to signal for help?_ he had said.

Was that when it had all started?

“To this day, your highness,” Shun said, “I am still not sure whether it is Xue-li making all the plans, or whether it is actually your younger brother, the Ninth Prince.”

Ming-song’s head snapped up. “Ming-yu?” He laughed. “ _No —_ not Ming-yu. He is not involved. My brother Ming-yu has been unwell since the fever he had when he was ten years old scarred his lungs. He was raised really by the servants of the palace after Mother died. He was _always_ sick and confined to his room as a child. He knows none of the political skills one needs as a Prince. He cannot even play chess.

“He is small and quiet and there are times when he gains interesting information because he is not noticed, but he has never even been properly involved. Ming-yu has always been one who would much rather spend time at his favourite gaming house with his friend than meddle with matters of state.”

This was similar to what Xue-li had said. _The Ninth Prince has made it clear he has no interest in anything to do with the court of Jin._ It was true, also, that the Ninth Prince was also known as the Wastrel Prince _._ Always falling asleep in court session because he had spent the previous night at a gaming house or in the company of paid women. It was well known that he was good friends with Master Huo Zhiguang, the owner of three flourishing gaming houses and the biggest courtesan house in the capital.

“In any case,” Ming-song continued, “The reason he married that prince from Xu was so that he could be safely away from all this. As long as he is a potential heir, he is in danger, even if he has no interest inthe throne. Now that he is a just a Prince Consort and absent from Jin, he is no threat to my uncle.”

Shun heard Pring Ming-song’s words. It was true the Ninth Prince had never shown any interest in the politics of Jin. It would be easy to believe that he had no hand in all of this — except — the Ninth Prince had given them pigeons. It was as if he knew they would needto send for help. Except, Xue-li claimed that the Ninth Prince still sent the Pine Resistance information, even from Xu.

Xue-li’s men had been able to find and intercept Lan and himself before any message from Lan, Mei-yu or Feng would have been able to reach them. Had that also been the work of the Ninth Prince?

“I wonder,” Shun said slowly, “if your brother is involved in all of this, far more than you or even I realise.”

 

* * *

  


“I am sorry, your grace.”

Lan was tossed to the floor of the Grand Duke’s study like a bag of old turnips. He curled into as tight a ball as he could. His whole body ached. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. He could still taste the metallic blood from where his lip had split.

“He is not talking?” Footsteps approach Lan. Pain spiked across his back as he forced himself to roll into a kneeling position and press his forehead against the floor.

“No, your grace.” There was a moment of hesitation, “We could have continued, but the  whip had already broken skin and you had specified that we — ”

“That you could not injure him beyond all function. That is true, I did say that.” Cool fingers hooked under Lan’s chin and tilted his face up. Lan swallowed against the bile that rose up in his throat. “It is not entirely unsurprising. Lan here was always a stubborn little thing. I think he may have relearned some of his previous bad habits.”

Lan was grateful that his unbound hair flowed down and covered half his face. It could hide the snarl that twisted his mouth before he managed to control himself again.

The fingers released him momentarily. “You may all leave us,” he heard the Grand Duke say. “Lan and I have a little private catching up to do. Do not worry, I have not exhausted all the ways to drag information out of this one.”

There was the sound of rustling fabric as the guards behind him bowed. Footsteps echoed away and then there was a click of a door closing. The Grand Duke’s fingers returned to the side of Lan’s face. “Tsk.” A thumb grazed his cheek. Lan shuddered. He started to count backwards from a hundred in his head. “You’ve forgotten all the lessons that I taught you, little Lan. All that time I spent on you, too…”

Lan blinked furiously. _Where was Shun_ , he wondered. He remembered catching sight of Shun’s figure, bound, captured, before they had turned the corner into the slave yards. Where had they imprisoned Shun? Had he been interrogated? Was he hurt? _Was he even alive_? Behind his back, Lan’s hands curled into tight fists.

“A convict-slave who forgets his place, who binds his hair as if a free man and starts a rebellion…” The Grand Duke’s nails were sharp against Lan’s cheekbone. “Did you forget, Lan, that I could have had you executed just like the rest of your family?”

Lan swallowed.

The nails dug in deeper. “Lan?”

“No, your grace,” he managed to rasp out.

Fire lanced across his face. The crack of the blow rang in Lan’s ears.

“No, _master_ ,” the Grand Duke said. “Really, Lan, have you forgotten everything?”

Lan closed his eyes and swallowed a sob. “No, _master_ ,” he said.

Fingers returned to stroke the sting away from his cheek. “That’s better. I had made you such a good boy, Lan. It is a pity that General Wei went on to ruin you.” There was a soft chuckle. “Although I have to say, I do have to thank the both of you for your help. Without you, I would not have been able to use one arrow to kill two eagles yesterday.”

An arrow had flown through the air to pierce King Ming-wang’s neck, but there had been no archers within their own men. By the time the arrow had been fired, reinforcements from the royal guard had already poured into the main square. It had been too late for the rebels to run.

“You planned this, _master_ ,” Lan said.

“Of course I did.” The Grand Duke laughed. “When I found out that General Wei had not died as he should have, well, I had to find a way to flush you out, did I not? The secrets you know, Lan, are too dangerous. I did not know what you had told General Wei.” He shook his head. “I should have asked that your tongue be cut out when I had the chance, but I am rather attached to what you can do with your tongue. It’s just a pity that General Wei did not _destroy_ you as he was meant to have done. I thought he would have hated you enough to kill you.”

“If you wanted me dead, why didn’t you just kill me yourself?”

The Grand Duke laughed again. His fingers slid down Lan’s cheek, grabbed a piece of skin and twisted _hard._ “But we’ve had so much fun, little Lan, have we not?”

Lan closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the ground. Perhaps it would have been better if Shun _had_ still hated him. If Shun had not been the gentle and forgiving person he was then he would never have caught the attention of the Grand Duke. Shun would still be free of all of this. _Shun..._ Lan had dragged Shun’s family into this mess and now he had dragged Shun into it too.

“When I arrested General Wei’s mother, I knew it would flush the two of you out. I was  absolutely delighted when you joined Ming-song’s men. It would have been easy enough to have Ming-wang die in a carriage accident eventually, although he has always been good and easy to lead” The Grand Duke shrugged. “Ming-song though, is much too loved by the people, and in this period of unrest, it was becoming too dangerous to keep him under house arrest. A charge of rebellion, of treason and murdering his own brother?” The Grand Duke laughed, “It could not be more perfect. So I thank you, Lan, and I need to also extend my thanks to the Lady Xue-li.”

That made Lan’s eyes snap up. Of course, the Grand Duke knew about the rebels. What had the Ninth Prince said? The knowledge of Ming-song’s supporters was the only thing keeping Ming-song alive.

As soon as Xue-li had returned to the capital, then, and paid her greetings to the palace as her rank obliged her to do, the Grand Duke would have known that they were about to start their plan.

Lan lowered his eyes. “I don’t understand, master,” he said. “Why all this elaborate plan? If you could have taken the throne while Prince Ming-song was still under house arrest, or earlier…”

“Ah, that is where you are foolish, little Lan. For a ruler to be accepted, it must be clear that the Mandate of Heaven rests on his shoulders.” Fingers stroked through his hair. “If I simply killed all the princes when they were children, I would have been a usurper. Besides, there was never any urgency, since Ming-wang would always listen to me. Now, a few calamities, a cruel king,” a nail scratched the edge of Lan’s earlobe, “those celestial signs — dragons appearing I believe? All these signal a change of the Mandate of Heaven and after both princes are dead, it will be clear that the Mandate has fallen to me.”

“Ah.” Lan’s stomach turned. “That was a rather clever plan, master,” he managed. “But if the King would have listened to your advice anyway, why was there any need to…?”

The fingers in Lan’s hair tightened and twisted, forcing out a gasp of pain. “Now you are fishing for information, little Lan,” the Grand Duke said. “Haven’t you learned already what happens to cats who are too curious for their own good?”

Fingers pressed on either side of his jaw and kept Lan’s mouth open. “Besides, I think that there are much more useful things you could be doing with your mouth now rather than talking, don’t you?”

Lan’s stomach flipped again. Sour bitterness flooded his mouth. He could only hope that he didn’t vomit.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a clang of metal against stone as the door to the interrogation chamber swung open. Shun’s head jerked up and his eyes snapped open. His arms burned in their sockets. They were pulled so far up above him his toes barely scraped the floor below. He had been dragged here from his cell just as the first rays of the morning sun appeared and locked him in here, alone. Now, from the position of the rays as they streamed through a barred grill high on one wall, it was midday.

Shun licked his lips and tried to work some moisture back into his mouth. It was a surprising blessing that they had not yet beaten again him today. Shun’s back still stung and ached from yesterday’s interrogation.

“Neither of you, it seems, want to talk about anything interesting.” The Grand Duke’s voice echoed through the stone passageways.

Shun grit his teeth as the Grand Duke stepped into the cell flanked by two guards. “You’ll never make me talk.”

“Make _you_ talk?” The Grand Duke raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Oh, my dearest General, today, I’m not all that interested in making _you_ talk. In fact  — ” he motioned to one of his guards, “  — gag him.”

The guard came forward. His hands grabbed Shun’s nose, pinching it tight. It didn’t take long for Shun’s lungs to burn. He managed to be still for two whole minutes before it was too much and he opened his mouth with a gasp. A wad of cloth was shoved into his mouth.

“There, that’s better,” the Grand Duke said. “Now I don’t have to worry about you speaking and interfering.” He nodded to one side. “Bring him in.”

Footsteps echoed through the walls and two more guards entered through the cell door, but it was who they had between them that made Shun pull forward. There, with his hair pulled back in a sleek, long slave’s braid, was Lan.

The Grand Duke’s lips curved into a smile as he met Shun’s eyes. “It’s always nice to witness a romantic reunion.”

Lan looked up. “Shun!” His eyes widened and he lunged forward as well, held back only by the hands of two guards on his shoulders. He struggled against them until one of the guards raised a hand and slapped him hard across the face.

Shun wanted to growl and bare his teeth, but could only make a futile noise of protest

Lan’s shoulders were hunched. He looked pale. His lip was split and a dark purple bruise blossomed across one eye. He had his arms folded in front of himself. His eyes flickered up to Shun's face and then turned away.

When Lan had walked into the cell, he had moved with a distinct limp. What could have given him that? A punishment? A beating? Or  —

Fire rushed through Shun. He pulled forward again with a growl of pure fury, toes dragging against the stone as his arms pulledat their restraints. If he could rip one arm free he would step forward and _strangle_ the Grand Duke with his bare hands.

The cuff across his head was so hard his ears rang. The Grand Duke’s laughter echoed in the cell. “Dear me,” he said and wiped the corner of one eye. “I do wonder I how won all those battles, General. Are you always so stupid? What can you do to me, to any of us, trussed up as you are?” His smile was all teeth. “You should learn from Lan. Look how well he’s learned his lesson, isn’t that right, my pet?”

Lan flinched. His eyes were downcast, focused only on the floor. “Yes, master,” he said.

The Grand Duke reached out a hand and petted Lan’s hair. Lan closed his eyes and bit his lip but stayed perfectly still. Shun’s stomach twisted and he jerked againsthis bindings again. If he could just free one arm….

“What a good boy.” The Grand Duke ran his fingers down Lan’s cheek and then twisted them cruelly into a pinch. Lan did not move. When the fingers let go, they left a patch of angry, red skin. “It is a pity that even though Lan here is so perfectly good in many ways after a little re-education, there is one area where he could still use a little….encouragement. He won’t tell us where the rest of the rebels are hiding either.” His smile widened. “But I think, dearest General, that you could be the one to get him to talk.”

Lan’s eyes widened. He pushed forward again, only to be pulled back by the guards that flanked him. “No, _please,_ no.”

The Grand Duke raised an eyebrow. “See? He’s speaking already.” He nodded to Shun. “Strip him.”

Shun tried to meet Lan’s eyes and shook his head. The rebels had been subdued but their very existence was the only hope they had of toppling the Grand Duke. Lan could not talk, he could not give away their secrets. It was not worth it. No matter what they did to him  —

It was only the gag that muffled hiscry when the shirt that had been stuck to the wounds on his back was ripped away. His head jerked up. Fire lanced down his back.

“Why don’t you turn him around? Let Lan witness the beauty of your good work.”

Hands pulled on his arms and turned him around. Shun watched as the chain binding his wrists twisted above them. The soft gasp behind him told Shun exactly when Lan saw the mess that was his back. There was no mirror in the cells, but Shun knew it had to be a network of welts criss-crossed with cuts. He shook his head again. No, Lan. It was not worth it.

“We could beat him again, Lan,” The Grand Duke said. “There is enough intact skin on his back there to create some more art. Or, we could try something else.”

The hands that were holding Shun’s body still suddenly let go. Shun’ spun helplessly in the air. His stomach flopped. When he stopped moving, helifted his eyes to look at Lan. Lan had his eyes down, hands bunched in his hanfu.

“What about the death by thousand cuts? That’s always entertaining to watch. Slow, agonising… What do you think about that, Lan?” The Grand Duke motioned a hand. One of the guards walked forward, brandishing a knife.

“What should we cut off first? A nipple? A bit of thigh? His nose?” The Grand Duke tapped a finger on his chin, as if he was deep in thought. “Or actually….” He made another hand signal.

Cold air rushed around Shun’s legs as his trousers were cut from around him.

“Why don’t we start with his genitals? We can burn the wound after so it doesn’t bleed so much.”

Fingers grasped Shun’s flaccid length and lifted it in the air. Shun felt the press of cold steel at its base. HIs closed his eyes and grit his teeth and prepared for the pain to come  —

“No!”

Shun’s eyes snapped open. Lan had fallen to his knees, shaking his head. “No, stop, please! You hate _me_. If you want to do anything, do it to me  — don’t hurt him. I  — I only dragged him into this.”

“Do it to you?” The Grand Duke laughed, “What is the challenge to that? You’ve been lying down like a dog and letting me do whatever I want to do anyway. Besides, you know what you need to do for this to stop, don’t you, Lan?”

Lan was silent.

The knife pressed in. Its blade burned cold against his skin. A trickle of warm liquid rolled down Shun’s leg.

“ _Stop_ ,” Lan’s voice cracked. He managed to crawl forward two paces before he was pulled back. “I’ll talk, I’ll talk.”

Shun’s eyes widened. He shook his head. _No, Lan._

There were tears streaming down Lan’s face. “I will tell you whatever you want. Just please, _please, don’t hurt him!”_

The knife moved away although the guard still stood beside him. The anguish on Lan’s face made Shun’s heart ache. “Lan...”

“Just please  — ” Lan hiccuped. “Promise me you won’t hurt him anymore, that you won’t kill him.”

“Ah, little Lan.” The Grand Duke chuckled softly. “You are hardly in a position to bargain, don’t you think?”

“The rebels are situated in a row of merchant houses. I….” Lan’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a long breath, in and out. “I can draw you a map of exactly where they are. They are well hidden  — you won’t find them otherwise.” He raised his eyes to meet Shun’s and a then looked down again face red. “I just  — ”

The ache in Shun’s chest sank heavy into his stomach. Even if the Grand Duke gave his word, it would be worthless. They were both prisoners here. After Lan gave the Grand Duke the map, and the rest of the rebels were found and captured, there was nothing stopping either one of them from being killed.

“Very well, Lan.,” Tthe Grand Duke’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “I promise, that no harm will befall your lover for now. He can keep everything, intact.” He glanced over at Shun up and down and then turned the guard. “Leave him here until nightfall, then you can take him back to his cell.”

The Grand Duke’s lips curved up in a smirk. He inclined his head. “Thank you for your assistance, General. It seems I should keep you alive for the moment. You are proving to be quite useful.”  

The door of the interrogation chamber clanged as it swung shut. Shun was left hanging in the cell, alone.


	10. Chapter 10

The sheet of stark white paper laid out before Lan swam before his eyes. Lan held his brush-pen just above it, its body of of thin bamboo poised between thumb and fingers. There needed to be a hollow in the palm when the brush was held. How many times, when they were children, had Shun forgotten that?

“Well, Lan? If you need a reminder what you are here to do, I can always bring in General Wei.” The Grand Duke said.

Lan started. Two fat drops of black ink splattered from the end of his brush and fell onto crisp white paper, blossoming instantly. 

“Of course, if you are just here to waste our time and make a mess, I am sure that we could start with cutting off the good General’s fingers.”

Lan forced the fingers that had tightened around his brush-pen to relax. 

The city gates had been sealed immediately after their attack. There was no way the rebels could have left. The knowledge of where the rebels were hiding was the only thing that protected them. Once Lan drew the map, o nce the merchant houses were found and raided, the Grand Duke would make the connection to Master Zhao and Lizhou. The rebels in the city would be captured, the Grand Duke could send his army to Lizhou and any remnants of resistance would be quickly destroyed. 

There would be nothing between the Grand Duke and his bloody crown. 

Lan opened his eyes and took in slow breath and brought his hand down on the paper in one slow stroke. 

What could he do? 

If he didn’t draw the map, Shun would die by the order: death by a thousand cuts. Death by a thousand cuts was an agonising sentence. The prisoner was kept awake and alive as more and more flesh was hacked off their body. If he had not agreed, Shun would have died a slow, painful death. At least this way, for Shun, it might be quick.

Lan willed his hand not to shake. If he had to start again, if he wasn’t able to finish the map, where would that leave Shun?

_ In the same place as before you started. Shun is a prisoner accused of treason. Shun is as good as dead. _ Lan had to blink as his vision blurred. His eyes stung. There was no way to stop Shun’s eventual execution.

Lan completed another stroke. Compared to his four brothers, Lan had never exhibited any true talent for painting. It would be understandable if he made the map a little crude  — perhaps even, a little difficult to follow when the complexity of a city was reduced to mere lines on a piece of paper. 

Perhaps. Perhaps Lan could make this just ambiguous enough that the rebel hideouts could not be found. 

Lan let out a slow even breath as he finished the last of his brush strokes and  set down his brush.

“Finished?”

“Yes master.” Lan swallowed and nodded. 

“Kneel.”

Lan dropped to his knees and crawled to the side when the Grand Duke’s leg nudged him there. He watched the Grand Duke’s boots as they walked behind the desk and then stopped in front of the chair as he sat down. 

“Interesting. So, located in merchant houses, are they? Along the city’s east wall? It does make sense. It makes it easier to bring supplies in and out, and there will be plenty of storage in the warehouses.” The Grand Duke chuckled. “Ming-song was always the cleverest of all my nephews. Some days, he reminds me of myself.”

Lan had not known the Fifth Prince, Ming-song, for long but he was nothing like the Grand Duke.

There was rustling as the paper was lifted from the table, folded and given to the two waiting soldiers who bowed, turned and left the room.

“When do you think the first prisoners will be dragged up the hill to the city prison?” The Grand Duke reached down. His fingers traced a trail up Lan’s neck. “I don’t want to start my new reign with an execution, but I suppose, given the circumstances and the  _ brutal way in which my nephew was murdered by the rebels _ … Such things sadly cannot be avoided, no?”  

The Grand Duke unpicked a loose lock of hair from the braid that hung down his back and played with it. It sent cold prickles down Lan’s back. 

_ Breathe. _ Lan sucked in deep breaths, in and out. He squeezed his fists tight and loosened them, then squeezed them tight again. 

“It is a pity, Lan,” the Grand Duke said, “that at very end, it comes down to this. You know, your father and I were friends once. I even visited you when you were little.” He chuckled. “Do you remember that I was the one who asked your father to be our ambassador to Xu?.”

The Grand Duke’s hand finally left Lan’s neck. “When the threat of an invasion from Dali emerged, the only way to offer any opposition was for the three Southern Kingdoms to form an alliance.”  Lan heard the tap of fingers against a wooden table.  “Rong has always been friendly but Xu would take more convincing. I knew that your father would be the best candidate to convince them to join the Alliance  — although I understand that your part in it was not small either.”

Lan had been in the thick of those negotiations. That mor ning, ten years ago, when Lan was to receive the official edict for his post in the Treasury, his father had been summoned to the court of the Grand Duke Regent. After he had returned, the Chen household in the city had immediately began to prepare for the journey to Xu. When Lan had heard about his father’s new post of Ambassador, there was no other decision that he could make.

“You would give up your hard won post in the Treasury,” his father had asked, “to accompany me to Xu?  There is still a place for a minor diplomat in my party, but it would be a significant demotion.”

“Dali’s armies outnumber ours by far,” Lan had said. There were far more important things in life than rank or position. Shun had just returned from the frontlines. Lan had, only that morning discovered that Shun was still alive. 

Only that morning, had Lan opened his mouth and stupidly broken Shun’s heart.

“We can only hold them off alone for so long. The most important thing for Jin is peace and the only way we can achieve peace is through the Southern Alliance.”

In two days, Shun would be sent to the frontlines again. Lan could only tell Shun he had made a mistake if Shun lived to see him again. The only way Shun would definitely live would be for the war to be over. 

_ The most important thing for Shun was peace. _

In his place, kneeling next to the Grand Duke, Lan swallowed and sucked in a long, shuddering breath. “I remember, master,” he said. “The Alliance was your proposition and because of the Alliance, Jin has found peace. Your good judgement is why King Ming-wang trusted you so.”

“Ah, Ming-wang….” The Grand Duke chuckled again. “The poor child. So soft and gullible. The way he hung onto my every word…” Lan peeked up through his eyelashes and watched the Grand Duke shake his head. “However, favour is a fickle thing, Lan. I had his ear  _ then, _ but who knows when he would have turned and decided that he knew much better how to rule than his old, faded uncle?”

Lan bowed his head. “He never questioned you, master.”

The Grand Duke’s fingers threaded through his hair and jerked, forcing Lan’s head back and baring his throat. Lan let out a grunt of pain. 

The Grand Duke grinned down at Lan. “No? Nor did your father ever question my decisions  — that is until a little blue bird decided to whisper in his ear.” He ran a finger down Lan’s cheek. 

“Besides, why should I have to bow and grovel to my nephew? I was the eldest son and I was also born of the Queen. Just because my Royal Father and I had a disagreement, he decides to take away my birthright and hand it to my brat of a younger brother.” 

Of course, everyone knew that the Grand Duke had been the older brother of King Ming-Wang’s father. To name the younger son as heir was highly unusual but not unprecedented. Lan’s eyes widened. King Ming-wang’s father died with his queen in an unfortunate carriage accident in the first few years of his reign. So young, that he had not even lived to see the birth of his youngest son. 

Had that too, not been just an accident?

“Well, my father didn’t see the error of his ways but the Heavens did. The Mandate of Heaven has now fallen rightfully back on my shoulders.” The fingers slipped out of Lan’s hair and sent his head snapping forward. His teeth clacked together from the force of it. “We will, of course, have to wait until after the Duan Wu Festival is over for the official coronation.”

Lan stared at his fists where they sat, curled on his lap. The Duan Wu Festival was little more than a month away. If he had not betrayed the rebels, would they have had time to regroup or attack again? He swallowed a sob. It was far too late now.

“Your grace.” A eunuch who had been standing at the door of the Grand Duke’s study approached his desk with a bow. “The captains of the Royal Guard are outside with a report.”

“Ah, good. They must be here with the news of the raid on the rebels’ headquarters. Show them in.” Fingers reached down to curl around Lan’s chin. A thumb was forced past his lips. Lan closed his eyes and forced himself to run his tongue against it. “How many, Lan, do you think we managed to capture?”

“Your grace.” Two soldiers entered and sank down on one knee. “Your Grace, there was no one there.”

“ _ What _ ?” The Grand Duke’s hand left Lan’s face. He slammed it down on the desk. “What, do you mean by your words, captain?”

Lan bit hard down on his tongue to keep his face still. There was no one there? The rebels had not been caught?

“We went to the houses as instructed. There was some evidence that the store houses at the bottom of the warehouses were being used to house extra supplies at one point, but there were no weapons. There were no inhabitants. Perhaps there had not been for some time.”

Wild, desperate hope flared in Lan. Perhaps there had always been a secondary safe point. It would make sense that the rebels did not return to their original base after the attack. If there was truly no one there and they had not all been captured, then they must have been somewhere else,  _ safe _ . 

“I see.”

Pain lanced through Lan’s scalp as his braid was grabbed and pulled backwards. Lan had to brace his hands behind himself or else risk falling backwards onto the floor. 

“You look rather too happy, Lan.” The Grand Duke’s face appeared in Lan’s line of vision, his lips twisted into a sneer. “No wonder you gave in so easily. Was this your little plan after all? Don’t you remember we still have the good General Wei as our prisoner too?”

_ Shun. _ Ice cold panic grabbed Lan’s stomach. “ _ No!”  _ He tried to pull against the hand tugging his braid back. “No, I’ve told you all that I know. The rebels’ hideout is in those merchant houses. There is no other safe house.” He shook his head. “ _ Please, _ I promise  — ”

The Grand Duke’s eyebrow jerked up. “You promise? Well we will see how good your word is, Lan. Why don’t we make another visit to the palace prisons?”

  
  


***

It was a relief when the room in the palace prisons they brought Lan to was empty. They stripped Lan of his shirt and locked thick metal cuffs around his wrists. His arms were hoisted up until he was half suspended in the air.

“You know, this could be all avoided, Lan, if you just tell the truth,” the Grand Duke said as he moved to seat himself down on a chair that had been placed in the corner of the room. “I hate all these unpleasantries.”

Lan’s stomach churned. What was there to tell? “I know nothing,” he said. There was nothing more he could tell. Even if he did tell, would it truly protect Shun? 

Of course, if they brought in Shun...

Lan closed his eyes. There was a burn that was starting in the middle of his shoulders and it tore a path up his arms. Lan bit the inside of his cheek.

“You’re not going to beg?” The Grand Duke crossed one leg over the other. “Or even speak?”

In the central courtyard of his father’s house, there had been a large tree overlooking a pond a lush man made landscape of mountain and lake. When Lan was ten, he had convinced Shun to climb the tree and fasten to one if its lower branches a crude rope swing.  Lan could almost feel the way the summer breeze brushed past his face every time he swung forward as the chains holding his wrists above his head moved.

“I’ve told you everything I know. Why would I hold anything back when you threatened Shun?”

When Lan opened his eyes it was to see the Grand Duke spread his fingers out and examine his nails. The Grand Duke yawned. “Start with twenty lashes.”

A crack split the air behind him. Sharp pain exploded down Lan’s back. Lan swung forward, teeth grit together. The swing in summer, he reminded himself. The tree had overlooked the lake and when Shun pushed him, it felt like he was flying  — another line of pure fire hit him from behind  — when Shun pushed him, he flew above the water with  — another crack  — with the brilliant gold and reds of the goldfish swimming below his feet. 

  
It was just summer, Lan reminded himself. Shun and himself playing on a swing. Perhaps the rope had got caught. Perhaps he had fallen and hurt his back. Perhaps  — it was at the seventh blow that the first strangled cry erupted from Lan’s throat. After number twelve, Lan lost count.

  
Sweat dripped down Lan’s back. He could taste blood in the side of his mouth from where he had bitten through his cheek. His back felt as liquid fire had been poured onto it.

“Ah, that old stubbornness again.” The Grand Duke pushed himself to his feet. He walked forward to grip Lan’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “I thought we had gone over this lesson already, little Lan. Don’t forget. I will always be able to get what I want out of you.” 

Lan shuddered. His voice, when he opened his mouth, was hoarse. “I...I…really know nothing.” His throat burned when he swallowed. Had he truly screamed so much?

“Really...nothing...?” The fingers holding his chin moved away and then pain split across Lan’s face. Lan could taste blood on his lip. “I could ask them to bring General Wei in here in a second. String him up in front of you. Cut him to pieces and let his blood soak into the ground. We could gouge out his eyes and bring them to you. Let him see up close how much — ” Lan’s head was jerked back, “  — how much his lover really cares for him. What do you think, my little Lan?”

_ “No.” _ The word emerged, twisted and died in his throat. Lan looked at the Grand Duke’s face: at his flint hard eyes and unyielding jaw. Even if he had the information to give, it would do nothing to stop the Grand Duke from hurting Shun again and again. They both were in the center of the Grand Duke’s palm.

Lan sucked in one long shuddering breath. Shun was going to die. He was going to watch Shun die in front of him and there was nothing he could do to change it.

The Grand Duke opened his mouth but the footsteps echoing down the passage outside interrupted him before he could speak.  There was a creak as the door to the room swung open and a red faced soldier half- ran, half- fell, panting, onto his knees.

“Your...Grace.” 

Lan thanked whoever it was watching down from the Heavens for the small reprieve.

“What is it? Can you not see I am busy?”

“Your Grace  — a messenger  —  from the South, has arrived.” The soldier’s shoulders rose and fell in shallow pants as he spoke. “The river Lisha...the river has broken its banks. There are riots  — They want to march to the capital! Half the officials have already assembled in the Great Hall...and the other half are on their way.”

“The river has flooded?” The Grand Duke leaned forward. “I see. Another sign that my nephew’s reign lost favour with the Heavens themselves. It is a good thing then, that Jin, under my hand, will enter a new era.” 

The Grand Duke straightened slowly before walking until he was in front of Lan again.  He patted Lan’s cheek. “This little problem, I will need to take care of. Why don’t you wait for me in my room, little Lan? I am sure we can continue all of this after.”

***

Lan kept his eyes on the floorboards beneath the bed that he lay on. The only thing that he could be grateful for at times such as these was that he did not have to spend the rest of the night in bed. He tried to shift away from the sticky mess underneath his thighs that soaked a stain into the sheets.  Any moment now, and he could roll onto the welcome embrace of the hard, cold floor.

“I wonder.” The Grand Duke was behind him. From where his voice came, Lan knew he had sat up. “You haven’t asked what I am going to do about these Southern Rioters,” he said. Lan felt fingers run down his back, skipping lightly over the mess of welts that covered his skin there. He bit on his tongue to suppress the shudder.

“Does it matter, master? I suppose Shun and I will be dead before your troops go down and kill everyone in the Southern Villages.” The words woke an ache in his gut that was more than the faint thrum of pain between his legs. Lan blinked rapidly. 

“Ah Lan,” The fingers left Lan’s neck to run through his hair. “I feel judged.” The Grand Duke laughed. “The whole point, you see, is that I am  _ not _ the man my nephew was.” Mercifully, his hand moved away. “The kingdom has had a hard year. All these natural disasters, the weight of unjust taxes. I will show them that they now have a king who cares. It is time, after all, to herald a new era.”

A new era. Ruled by a king who had murdered his own nephew, murdered babies before they could take in their first breath. Lan bit down on his tongue until he tasted blood.

“I am even going to be merciful to you, Lan,” the Grand Duke said. “I am not going to kill Shun, just yet. He and Prince Ming-song will be beheaded in the main square  — a gentle death for a traitor  — two days before the Duan Wu Festival celebrations. He will be moved in the meantime to the city prison, which is closer to the execution site and more secure. Shun will join him. As you can see Lan, I give you plenty of time to change your mind.”

Lan swallowed. Even if he had wanted to give every scrap of information he could about the rebels’ whereabouts, he did not have the answer that the Grand Duke wanted. There was no way he could save Shun.

“And of course, I can’t have you lounging around here by yourself when I am away.” The Grand Duke took hold of his hair again. His fingers jerked tight and pulled Lan’s head back, arching his neck and forcing him to look at the Grand Duke’s face. The Grand Duke’s eyes were two round, hard beads. “I’m sending you to the kitchens. It amuses me to think of you, the fourth son of the great Official Chen, scrubbing plates. It amuses me to think of you being  _ used _ by lowest of the kitchen scum.”

All Lan saw were those hard, cold eyes and lips that curved into a smile. The hand in his hair loosened, drew away and returned as a forceful shove between his shoulderblades. Lan rolled off the bed with a thump. The pain that blossomed in his shoulder as he hit the hardwood floor was more than welcome. 

Lan closed his eyes and sucked in a deep, long breath. Shun was as good as dead. Perhaps this change would be enough to kill him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted to update this for Christmas but then realised this chapter wasn't a Christmas appropriate piece. LOL
> 
> Hope you are all enjoying. :D :D
> 
> Come and say hi at my [tumblr!](http://gixininja.tumblr.com)


	11. Chapter 11

The Grand Duke left for the Southern Villages that lay along the River Lisha’s floodplains at dawn with a full entourage of the highest ranked civil and military officials. The entire court gathered on either side of the palace’s main gate to see the party off. Under the golden glow of the rising sun, the banners and carriages looked like they were covered with gold: a certain promise of Heaven’s favour.

Lan saw nothing of it.

Lan was woken instead with a kick to the ribs in the predawn darkness. A soldier’s rough hands twisted his arms behind his back and he felt the scrape of rope against his skin as his wrists were bound together.

“It is a pity,” - the soldier’s breath was dank against Lan’s cheek, - “that the kitchens start so early. We could have had some fun together, otherwise.”

Lan had to swallow back the gag that caught the back of his throat. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing. Even if no one made use of him now, there was no doubt what his duties in the kitchens would be. Lan wanted to curl into a ball, press his legs tight together against his stomach and close his eyes against the world.

He was dragged to his feet instead and half pushed, half stumbled as he made his way to the palace kitchens.

Everyone who lived in the palace was fed by the palace kitchens. They were located in the western wing of the palace: a labyrinth of interconnected rooms divided into sections that fed a corresponding section of the palace: from one area used exclusively to prepare food for the the king himself to rooms of long benches where food for the lowest servants and slaves would be prepared.

Lan was shoved to his knees in front of the head chef, Li Zhong. He peeked up through his eyelashes. A swarthy man with a rounded belly and large, fat fingers that would undoubtedly bruise when he held Lan down and —

  
  


“Untie him.” 

Lan looked up. That was not what he expected.

“Sir…?” The soldier standing behind Lan twisted a hand into Lan’s hair and jerked his head back. Lan blinked rapidly at the sting of his scalp. “The Grand Duke intended this to all of you as a  _ gift _ to the kitchen staff. Surely, some would first want to have some  _ fun  — ” _

“Fun?” Li Zhong crossed his arms across his chest. His eyebrows furrowed together at the top of his nose like two thick stormclouds moving together. “What fun? My staff need to prepare food for the king, his consorts, their servants and then all the other staff who live in the palace. It is not yet dawn and they are already running behind. If anyone has time to have fun, then they can go and gut fish for the midday meal or start another pot of rice. The only  _ gift _ this Cheng Lan would be would be another pair of hands.” He waved a hand toward Lan. “And he is no help with those bound behind his back.”

“But sir— ”

“ _ Untie him _ . Or else  _ your _ breakfast might be late.”

“Yes sir.”

There was the cool press of steel against the skin of his wrists and the ropes that bound his wrists together were gone. Lan put his hands on the ground and pressed his forehead to the floor in a low kow tow. “Thank you— “

“Hn.” Li Zhong raised an eyebrow. “Thank me by finishing today’s work. I’ll have Chun Hua show you where you are to be working. You had better hurry. Everyone else has already started.”

***

“This is where you’ll be working, Cheng Lan.” 

Even though the sky was only just starting to change from blue to deep orange, the heat in this section of the kitchens was stifling and the air was thick with moisture from three large simmering vats of rice. Lan’s hair was already damp. A bead of sweat rolled down his leg.

“Yes  — madam.” Lan bowed deep.

Chun Hua snorted. “I said my name is Chun Hua.” She was a wispy slip of a girl at least five years younger than Lan. Beads of perspiration also dotted her forehead and sweat glistened where her hair was pulled back into two severe buns on either side of her head. “You will need to listen more closely if you are to continue working here. Not being careful may find you tripping into vats of oil or falling into furnaces.”

Lan wondered what kept her from slapping him across the face for not listening. He tried for another bow. “Thank you, Chun Hua.”

Chun Hua looked Lan up and down, eyes dark and unreadable. She pressed her lips together. “This area prepares food for the palace prisons. Chef Li thought that this would be the least likely place for you to get into trouble. It is where I started before I moved on to far more pleasant sections of the palace. Many of the new ones start here. No one cares if a prisoner doesn’t like his meal.” 

“The palace prisons?” Lan’s heart started to to race. Surely, he had heard wrong. “The palace  _ prisons _ ?”

Chun Hua’s face twisted an expression that clearly said she thought he was deaf or stupid, or both. “The palace  _ prisons _ ,” she repeated, each word loud and slow. “The food for the prisoners and the soldiers who guard them?”

Lan could only duck his head and bow again.

Chung Hua heaved an exasperated sigh and looked away. “Of course, Cheng Lan, unlike the rest of us, you will likely be staying here until Grand Duke returns and wants you back.”

Lan nodded and tried to swallow the smile that threatened to tug at the corner of his lip. This section of the kitchens served the palace prisons. This was where the food that fed the palace prisoners was prepared. This was where the food that Shun ate would be prepared. He would be preparing food for Shun.

“I suppose, that the youngest son of a scholar-official’s family and the Grand Duke’s—“ Chun Hua’s mouth snapped shut and she pressed her lips together again. “I suppose you have never set foot in a kitchen before?”

The memories of sitting at the table in the kitchens with his books when he was a child flooded back. Yu Zheng would knead flour for dumplings and Shun would sit next to him with a bucket of beans for shelling or yams for peeling. They would sit close enough that their elbows would accidentally bump. Shun would smile at Lan’s bullying:  _ be careful you clumsy oaf _ and pass a handful of beans to Lan:  _ if shao ye  — the fourth young master  — is so bored then perhaps  _ this _ can occupy his hands. _

Something in Lan’s chest squeezed so tight he could barely breathe. He closed his eyes.  _ Shun.  _

Lan opened his eyes. “I know something of food preparation. Although  — I admit I cannot cook.”

“Well, I suppose you are not entirely useless. Ma Xiang is the head of this kitchen. He’ll tell you what needs to be done.” Chun Hua opened her mouth as if to say something else but then closed it and shook her head. “If there is extra help needed elsewhere you may be pulled away from this place. Make sure you  _ listen _ , Cheng Lan. I am sure I will be seeing you again.”

  
  


***

A week passed. A week of being pushed out of his pallet, eyes bleary with sleep in the predawn darkness and collapsing back on his pallet in the long halls that served as servant’s quarters well after moon rise. A week of scrubbing pots until his hands became red, then raw, then fingers cracked and stung as they were plunged into cold water. A week of peeling bottomless buckets of gourds and turnips and long white radishes.

Through the whole week, none of the palace staff tried to touch him. Lan worked hard but he was able to sit alone in his corner in the kitchens. At night when he rolled onto his pallet there were no wandering hands or bodies that came to press up against himself, despite the Grand Duke’s promise. Lan was too grateful to think about why.

“I heard that Li Zhong’s son served with General Wei.”

The back of Lan’s neck prickled. His hands paused in the trench where he was washing the pile of breakfast dishes. The words he heard were said in a half whisper: it was a conversation obviously not meant to be overhead.

“Really? But Li Zhong’s son came back from the battlefields without one of his legs! Shouldn’t that mean Li Zhong hates General Wei?”

“Yes, but the story goes if it were not for General Wei, Li Zhong’s son would be  _ dead.” _

“Is this why Li Zhong has said that we’re not to  —”

Lan turned. The voices stopped. Everyone’s head was down, working. There was no sign of who had spoken. He dipped his own head and continued scrubbing. Was it true? It was no surprise that Shun had been a hero out in the front lines but if  _ this  _ was the reason he hadn't been touched — if Li Zhong had ordered the kitchen staff not to touch him — then he would be acting in direct defiance of the Grand Duke. It was a dangerous action at best. 

Lan sighed. Even locked deep in the palace the prisons, was Shun still protecting him in some way?

“Cheng Lan?”

Lan looked up into a pair of wide brown eyes. The servant who had spoken dipped his head and smiled as he set down another tub of dirty dishes. Lan racked his memory for a name to the face.

“Ah  — Ah Fang isn’t it?” 

Ah Fang, Lan remembered, had started at the kitchens almost the same time as Lan although he moved between another section and this one, depending on where the greater workload was. It was strange. Today was not an overly busy day.

Ah Fang nodded, his cheeks bobbing up and down in a rapid motion that made Lan dizzy. “Yes! You remember me!” He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and plunged two dirty bowls in the water. “Is it true that you and the good General Wei were good friends?”   
  
Lan blinked, so taken aback by the question that all words momentarily left his brain. “The good General Wei? General Wei  — he’s now a convicted traitor.”

“He’s an  _ alleged  _ traitor,” Ah Fang shrugged. “He also is a hero who defended our borders in three victories against the Dali invaders. So  — were you friends?”

“We…we grew up together. Yes.” 

Ah Fang leaned in until his face was almost at Lan’s shoulder. “I’ve heard that the two of you were close. Even before you were given to him. Is it true that he proposed marriage to you and you rejected him?” 

Lan took a step away. “Yes.” They were friends, they were lovers. Mere words couldn’t describe what Lan and Shun had been. Mere words couldn’t describe how stupid Lan had been.

Ah Fang tilted his head to one side. “You’ve heard the rumour then? In a little over a week, the Fifth Prince Ming-song and General Wei will be moved from the palace prisons to the city prisons. The city prisons are very well fortified. Escape from there is impossible.” He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “They will be executed during the Duanwu festival.”

Lan’s stomach dropped. “Yes.” He had known that they would be moved for execution. But...so soon? Shun would be dead so soon?

“Cheng Lan….if you hold that plate any tighter, it will break.”

Lan blinked and looked down at his white knuckled hands. He forced himself to relax his grip. Shun was as good as dead. He knew this. He let out a soft breath and moved to the opposite side of the trench.

Ah Fang followed him. “It is such a waste, is it not?” He looked around and took a step closer to Lan, lowering his voice so Lan had to strain to hear. “Don’t you think, if there was any hope of a rescue, that the best time would be en route from the palace prisons to the city prisons?”

_ What _ ?

Lan stared at Ah Fang, eyes wide. Surely he had heard wrong. To declare, to even  _ think  _ such a thing would be treason! To mention this in daylight, in the middle of a crowded room and so cheerfully— 

“What if you could rescue General Wei, Lan,” Ah Fang’s breath tickled against Lan’s ear. “What would you give?”

Lan shoved Ah Fang away. Heat crept up his neck and curled around his ears. “This sort of thing,” he said, “is not a joking matter. Do you not want your head to stay between your shoulders?”

“I like my head exactly where it is.” Ah Fang’s grinned had not dimmed. 

Lan’s fingers itched to slap it from his face. 

“Well, Cheng Lan?”

“Well,  _ what _ ?”

Ah Fang shrugged. “Everything has a price. What would you give, Cheng Lan?” he said. “What would you give for General Wei Shun?”

Lan stared at Ah Fang. He was serious about this? Was Lan hallucinating? He was going mad, he was sure of it. This was all an image made up by the desperation of his mind. How could it be possible that they were sitting here in front of a trench of dirty dishes talking about treason in the open room? Unless— 

—unless this was a test. Was Ah Fang a spy sent by the Grand Duke?

_ If _ Ah Fang was a spy sent by the Grand Duke, what then? It was not as if the Grand Duke didn’t know what Lan felt for Shun. What Lan was willing to give up for Shun’s safety. 

If Lan was truly going mad and this was a trick of his own mind, what harm could there possibly be in answering it?

Lan stared down at his hands submerged in the water of the trench. One week of scrubbing, peeling and gutting and his fingertips had cracked and roughed. Hangnails dotted his nailbeds. Growing up, Lan’s hands were his pride. They were a scholar’s hands. A musician’s hands. Of all the scholar’s skills, Lan’s talent had been in the playing qin. When his fingers danced across the strings, Lan could lose himself in the melody of it all, as if the music were enough to send him floating into a different world. The string-worn calluses on his hands that had proudly declared testament to Lan’s skills had long since faded away.

What would he give for General Wei Shun?

“I would give both my hands in exchange for Shun’s life. Or even—” Lan’s breath hitched. “ I would give up my feet or my eyes or my tongue or even my own worthless life if— “ His voice cracked. Lan swallowed. “I would give anything.” He would give anything if it meant Shun could be rescued. Could be safe.

“Ah I see,” Ah Fang pulled out the bowls he was washing, now clean, and placed them on a bench for drying. For a moment, he stared at Lan, head tilted to one side, expression unreadable. Then he patted Lan’s shoulder. 

“Well, good luck then,” Ah Fang said. “I had better go and fetch more dirty dishes.” He flashed another grin and waved a hand and disappeared into another corner of the room. Lan looked down and stared at his hands, still clutching a dish in the water. 

If it meant that Shun would live, Lan would take the knife and cut both his hands off himself.

***

“These are for the palace guards.”

Lan looked up from his basket of snow peas. Chun Hua was standing at the door of their kitchen, flanked by two burly servants as they set down one, then another tall basket at the door to the kitchens. One basket was full of leaves and the other contained a bag of pearly white rice.

A voice came from the back of the room. “Glutinous rice? What is that meant to go into?”

Chun Hua scowled. “Don’t you remember that the Duanwu festival is coming up?” she said. “By order of the Grand Duke before he left, this is the glutinous rice and the bamboo leaves for the  _ zhongzi _ that will need to be prepared in two weeks for the guards. _ ” _

Lan stared at the baskets.  _ Zhongzi _ . Large, sticky rice dumplings filled with meat or sweetened with red bean and jujube dates and then wrapped in bamboo leaves and boiled. One of Shun’s favourite foods.

Chun Hua looked across the room until her eyes locked with Lan’s. “I need some more help getting the rest of the supplies from the storeroom,” she said. “Cheng Lan, come with me.”

“But…” Lan looked down at what was meant to be his work. 

“ _ Cheng Lan _ . Come with me.”

Lan looked across the room. Ma Feng, head of the kitchens shrugged and nodded his head. “As long as you let him come back promptly, Chun Hua. He still has duties here.”

Chun Hua waved a hand. “It is only one more bag of rice. Come, Cheng Lan. The sooner we go, the sooner we come back.”

The storerooms were outside of the kitchens, down a path that twisted through a courtyard fragrant with the multitude of scents from growing herbs. It was only when they were halfway down the path that Lan realised: the other other two servants that were with Chun Hua had disappeared. If Chun Hua noticed, she didn’t show it. 

“There is much to do before the Duanwu festival,” she said as they walked. “The rice and the leaves need to be washed properly and soaked. I’m sure they’ll slaughter some pigs in the coming weeks and then there will be pork for the dumplings. Come.” She opened the door to a small, squat mudbrick building, waved to Lan and then slipped inside. 

The door to the store room slid shut behind him as Lan entered. Lan whirled around but there was no one else in the space other than him and Chun Hua. Dim light filtered from the outside courtyard through slitted windows. In the darkness, Lan could barely make out Chun Hua’s form and the shapeless shadows behind her that were bags of rice. 

“So, we just need to move one more of these to your kitchen.” She waved a hand at some of the shapeless shadows.

“I see.”

Chun Hua’s mouth twitched into a half smile. “Do you, Cheng Lan? Do you really see?” She took a step forward and then leaned so close to Lan they were almost touching, nose to nose. “Do you think that I have asked you to come in here just to show you bags of rice?” She laughed. “I am not entirely sure why I have been asked to give you this gift, but here you go.” Chun Hua reached out and took Lan’s wrist. Lan felt something long, hard and cold placed into his palm. He looked down. 

There in his hand, were two small steel keys.

“Keys? To the storerooms?” Why would he need keys to the storerooms? Why were they a gift?

Chun Hua huffed. “Are you an idiot?” Her fingers curled around Lan’s own and pushed down so his hand closed on the keys. “Why would I give you the keys to the storeroom?”

Lan’s brow furrowed. 

Chun Hua rolled her eyes. “The Grand Duke has ordered, has he not, that the Fifth Prince and General Wei be moved to the city prisons? You’ve been told that the move is planned for a little over a week’s time. That will be the last opportunity for their rescue.”

Lan started. He raised his eyes to meet Chun Hua’s. “...Ah Fang?”

“The city prisons are guarded so well that the thought of escape is nigh impossible. Once they reach the city prisons, they will be there to stay.”  Chun Hua raised an eyebrow. “Ah Fang has told me that you, at least, appear loyal to General Wei.”

“The last opportunity for their rescue?” Lan tried to think. “Then these are keys to help in their rescue?”

“So, not such an idiot after all.” Chun Hua smirked. “These are master keys. One for the Fifth Prince, Mingsong. The other for your general. They will unlock their shackles and the cart they will be transported in. It would do no good for their rescuers to clear a path, only for them not to be able to walk down it.”

_ Their rescuers…?  _

“I thought,” Lan stared down at his palm, “I thought that the Pine Resistance has largely disbanded and fled into hiding.” Even if Shun and Prince Ming-song had somehow managed to unlock their shackles as they were being transported, they would be unarmed and surrounded. There was no hope of escape. “I thought that there was no one left in the palace who was a member of the Pine resistance.”

Chun Hua snorted. Lan frowned and rain his eyes up and down Chun Hua’s sleeve and the front of her robes. There was no sign of a pine tree anywhere 

“The Pine Resistance? They have gone into hiding, yes, but they have not disbanded. Even though you told the Grand Duke of their secrets, Cheng Lan, none of them have been caught.”

Lan jerked. “What? How did you know— ”

“Our leader predicted it. The Pine Resistance know of the date that the Fifth Prince and General Wei are due to be transported to the city prison. They are planning a rescue attempt as we speak. But they will be able to do little if they reach the Fifth Prince and General Wei and are not able to open the locks.” 

Lan could feel the outline of the steel keys dig into the skin of his hand. Something here didn’t make sense. “But tell me, if you are able to get your hands on these master keys in the first place, why give them to me?”

“Why give them to you indeed,” Chun Hua echoed. “Trust me, Cheng Lan, that was not my decision.”

“If you have enough men to steal it why not pass it to the Prince himself?”

Chun Hua snorted again. “Do you think we would ask you if we did not need your help? There are...only a few of us in the palace, and many of us are in the same position I am in, or lower. Sneaking a key to a condemned prisoner is an executable offense. Why would we want to risk that?”

“And stealing a key from the prisons is not?”

“We had a contact within the palace prisons who was able to assist us in this little matter but he has become….unavailable.” Chun Hua pursed her lips. “The rest of us, like our leader, are cowards, Cheng Lan. We have an agreement with him not to take excessive risks.” 

“Why then  — why help at all?”

Chun Hua closed her eyes. “I remember your father, Cheng Lan. I remember the Second Prince Ming-an who was accused of treason and executed.  Now the King has died and the Grand Duke is King. The Fifth Prince Ming-song is the best chance we have of removing the Grand Duke the throne.” She tilted her head to the side. “You still do not look as if you trust us.”

“You have not given me any reason to trust you.” Lan could feel the outline of the key digging into his palm. 

“Ah,” Chun Hua reached into her sleeve, pulled out a bundle of papers and thrust them towards Lan. “He said that you may not trust at first. He said to show you this if you had more questions.”

Lan took the paper. He only needed to scan a few lines before his hands started shaking. “This  —  _ this _  — ” These were written orders in the Grand Duke’s hand with his seal. These were the orders to kill the baby princes. This was evidence of treason. “How did you get this? How is this possible?”

“This bundle of letters was found by a palace maid while she was cleaning the apartments of High Eunuch Tao.” Chun Hua plucked the papers from Lan’s hand. “It seems that he was keeping a hold of them as a backup plan just in case.” She tilted her head to the side. “Of course, he never thought that a simple meal of fish and rice with an old friend could be fatal.”

“Was stealing these letters then, not excessive risk?”

Chun Hua ignored Lan’s question. “High Eunuch Tao died two days ago.” She laughed. “Perhaps the Grand Duke decided that he was no longer useful. Or perhaps, someone else decided that justice needed to be served.”

“And keeping them on your person? What if the Grand Duke hears you have this?”

“It was a parlour maid who found the papers  — a new maid who had to leave the palace soon after because her aunt became unwell. I have never even spoken to her and so, why would these papers that she found happen to make it to a kitchen maid’s hands?” Chun Hua shrugged. “They would, of course be in our leader’s possession but he is in a place that is not convenient. Besides, when the time is right, this will, of course, need to go to the Pine Resistance. These papers will remain with me until then because I am the last person that anyone will think of to search.”

“Go to the Pine Resistance? If you have these papers,” Lan waved a hand at the bundle in Chun Hua’s hand. “Why don’t you go to the courts with them? It would be evidence enough of the Grand Duke’s treason.”

“Go to the courts? Who would go to the courts? Me, a simple kitchen maid, against the Grand Duke who is the most likely candidate for the Dragon Throne? As I said, the only one who could contest him is the Fifth Prince.” 

Lan looked down at the key in his hand.  _  If there was a chance he could save Shun…. _

“I’m just a convict slave,” Lan said. “What can I do?”

Chun Hua regarded Lan for a long moment. “The part of the kitchens you work in, it delivers to the palace prisons. No one else in our little group has such an ability to access the palace prisons without rousing suspicion. If you managed to get the keys to them, you will be able to save the Fifth Prince, and save General Wei.” Chun Hua pressed her lips together. “Don’t you remember what you said to Ah Fang? What you would give if it meant you could save General Wei?”

Lan was silent. He would give anything. Anything. As long as Shun could be safe. 

“Still don’t trust us?” Chun Hua pursed her lips. “Well, there is another present for you that will arrive in a few days to prove how much we can be trusted.”

“The Fifth Prince is generous.”

“The Fifth Prince?” Chun Hua snorted. “No, Cheng Lan. The reason why you cannot find the mark of the pine tree on me is because I am not part of this Pine Resistance.” She smirked. 

Lan started. “Not the Fifth Prince?”  He looked sharply up at Chun Hua. “Then, who do you work for?”

Chun Hua laughed. “These gifts, Cheng Lan, they come to you from the Ninth Prince. Prince Ming-yu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started to ramp up exam study so writing will be slower. I can promise on time updates for the next two chapters and I'm hoping to keep to schedule but will let all of you guys know about any changes!!


	12. Chapter 12

Lan found a odd scrap of string in the kitchens and used it to tie the two keys looped around his neck so they stayed well hidden underneath the under robes of his hanfu. He could feel them as he moved around the kitchen during the day. They heated against the warmth of his body, two small hard lumps that knocked against him at odd moments, reminding Lan of what he needed to do.

Two days had passed and Lan did not yet have a solid plan of how to get the keys into the prisons unnoticed.

How to get the keys _into_ the prisons themselves was not difficult. The Duanwu festival was approaching. After the bags of glutinous rice that Chun Hua delivered came basket-loads of dried red beans and withered jujube dates for the _zong zi_ that was to be made. Lan had stared at the ingredients lined up against the wall one afternoon. A good sized _zong zi_ was the size of Lan’s fists. Even with the outer wrapper of bamboo leaf peeled away, a key could still be hidden deep in the center of the rice dumpling without any sign that it was there.

The problem was ensuring the keys arrived at Shun and Ming-song’s cells.

The kitchen staff were delivered food to the prison guard three times a day, and to the prisoners themselves at morning and night, but there were already servants designated to those roles. Lan could put keys in the _zong zi_ going to the prisons but then, he still needed to relay to Shun and Ming-song the details of the planned rescue. They needed to be vigilant, alert and ready to use the keys once they were out for the rescue to be successful.

And  — there was one more thing. There was no doubt that once they were safe and out, Shun would want to come back and find Lan. Lan needed to rid him of such a fool’s determination. It was better that one of them be free and live, then for both of them to suffer and die.

All which meant that Lan had to find another way.

“So, you are asking to make and deliver a special meal to two traitors awaiting their execution?”

It was late in the evening. Most of the servants had retired to bed but Li Zhong, the head chef, was still sitting at the table in the largest room of the labyrinth that was the kitchens, looking over the plan for the next day’s meals by candlelight. There were books and papers scattered all around him, and a thick bound ledger held up to the light in his hands. Li Zhong didn’t bother even looking up when Lan broached his question.

Lan had bowed when he first entered the kitchens but now he sank to his knees, hands stretched in front in a low kowtow. It had taken nearly a week of subtle hinting and then openly begging Ma Feng to get this audience with the head of all the palace kitchens. He needed to convince Li Zhong now, or else Shun and Ming-song would run out of time.

“It is  — it is said that your son may have served with General Wei Shun in the war?”

Li Zhong grunted, still focused on the papers in front of himself. “What of it?”

“I grew up in the same house as General Wei,” Lan said. “We were friends as children. He loved _zong zi_ and looked forward to the Duanwu festival because of it. It really is one of his favourite festival foods.”

“I see. It is still a little too early to make them,” Li Zhong said.

Lan bit his lip. This was true. “I know that there are orders to move General Wei and Prince Ming-song to the city prisons in five days’ time,” he said. “Prisoners who are due to be executed usually get a final meal. I just…” He raised his eyes, wide and round to meet Li Zhong _’s_. “I hoped that General Wei would be able to eat something that he enjoys before he dies.”

“General Wei and Prince Ming-song are traitors to Jin who killed our late King. If it weren’t for the forward thinking of the Grand Duke we would have no ruler and be plunged into chaos. And yet  — “ Li Zhong tapped his fingers on the table. “You are asking me to stick my neck out to give General Wei his favourite food?”

Lan pressed his forehead against the ground. “Yes, sir. It would be a pity for him to die without a final meal of something he loved.  
  


There was a dull a thunk, like a book had been dropped onto a table. “You are asking me to make an exception to the usual time we make our _zong zi_ for a traitor?”

“Yes.”

“Cheng Lan, you think I care about what General Wei enjoys eating?”

Lan held his breath and counted to ten softly before letting it all out in one gentle exhale. “Your son served with General Wei in the war.” He looked up.

Li Zhong was scowling. He brought his fist down with a hard thump onto the wooden table. “My son served with General Wei in the war.”

Lan was silent.

Li Zhong closed his eyes for a brief moment. “My son...he served with General Wei in the war.” He tapped his fingers again on on the top of the wooden table. “And who will make these _zong zi_ early, then?” he asked. “We are busy enough just feeding the rest of the palace without needing to prepare special meals for certain special prisoners.”

Lan hesitated but judged it was safe to rise he was sitting back on his knees and his face was no longer pressing on the floor. “I  — I can make them.”

“You?” Li Zhong turned his head and snorted. “I know that Ma Feng has you peeling vegetables and washing dishes. How does a young _shao ye_ who grew up in the households of one of Jin’s highest ranking officials know the beginning of how to make this sort of dish?”

Lan had been fifteen, Shun seventeen. Lan had been in the kitchens, pacing and complaining, as usual one summer evening until Shun had rolled his eyes, grabbed his wrist and sat him down on a stool.

“If _shao ye_ truly wants something to occupy himself then he can help us with this.”

Shun’s hands were rough and warm against Lan’s skin as he guided him through the scooping of the cold, wet, soy darkened rice. Lan watched Shun pick up the piece of soy soaked fatty pork between two bamboo chopsticks, drop it into the cup made by the bamboo leaf wrapper, and then Shun’s hands were on his again, folding the dumpling into a perfect parcel.

For every five dumplings Shun made, Lan made one. Even then Shun’s dumplings were smooth and clean and Lan’s were covered with as much rice outside them as inside.

Shun had laughed. “You know it is said that a girl cannot marry until she has mastered the art of folding _zong zi_ ,” he teased. “It’s a good thing you’re not a girl, Lan, or you would have a lot of practice to do before you reached marriageable age.”

Lan looked up, eyes catching Shun’s. “What about you?” he asked, “would you marry me, even if my _zong zi_ skills are so poor?”

Shun’s face had flushed a bright, perfect pink.

Lans fingers curled into fists on his lap as he knelt before Li Zhong. “General Wei taught me,” Lan said. “We grew up together  — as children. With your permission, I can make two of them, one for him and one for Prince Ming-song, and deliver them to the prisons with the guard’s food.”

Li Zhong stared at Lan so long that Lan was sure he was going to change his mind. “Well, I suppose. As long as you complete the rest of the tasks that you are assigned. If I hear any complaints from Ma Feng this will not only stop but I will have you dragged to the main square and beaten for putting us at risk.”

Lan dipped his head. “I understand, sir.”

Li Zhong sighed. “It is all just such a waste.”

Lan waited, but Li Zhong said no more. Lan chewed his bottom lip until he tasted blood. There was no avoiding asking the question. “There is another thing, sir. I also need to deliver it to them.”

“Deliver them to their prisons?” Li Zhong’s eyes were still closed but his eyebrows lifted. “You are not the usual person to make the food deliveries and you are close to Captain Shun. Surely, _you_ delivering the _zong zi_ will attract undue attention. If you make the _zong zi,_ I can have someone else deliver it to the general.”

Lan swallowed. “No, sir.”

“No?”

“I  — it is just that I owe General Wei much and this really was his favourite food. If I can get it to him and --” Lan’s eyes flickered up at Li Zhong’s, “it...I just want to see him one last time.”

“Ah.” Li Zhong’s eyes were on him again, his gaze boring into Lan so hard, Lan wondered if he could see through his eyes and into his thoughts. Finally, he spoke: “You hear that my son served with General Wei.”

Lan’s brow furrowed. “...yes?”

“ _I_ hear that you and General Wei had a special relationship.”

Lan looked at the ground. “That is no secret, sir. Ten years ago, the things I said then— ”

“No, I mean even now. I hear that he never treated you like a slave.” Lan opened his mouth to answer but Li Zhong was already speaking again. “You see, Cheng Lan, it is not that I do not want to give you permission to deliver food. That is not under my control. If you want to deliver food to General Wei, you will have to have the permission of the head of the palace and prison guard, General Pan Guo.” Li Zhong picked up the ledger he had been examining and turned a page.

Lan’s body went cold. He remembered Pan Guo from the prisons four years ago. The way his rough hands had pushed Lan to the ground. The way he had laughed when Lan had screamed in pain.

He remembered how Shun had injured Pan Guo in a fair fight in a public competition, and how Pan Guo and his father had cried for Shun’s blood.

Li Zhong watched him. “I do not think General Guo has a son who served with General Wei.”

“What if…” Lan swallowed when his voice started to waver, before speaking again. “If I convince General Pan to deliver the food, then I will also have your permission?”

“If you convince General Pan, then you have my blessings to deliver food to General Wei.” Li Zhong snorted. “General Pan is not an easy man to convince. I truly hope, Cheng Lan that the Heavens are on your — ”

His words were cut off by footsteps crashing against a wooden walkway. Ah Fang, half ran half fell through the doorway. He stayed there, bent over, hands on thighs, face red and sweat rolling down his neck while he panted.

“Sir  — have you seen? Have you heard?”

Li Zhong’s eyes flickered to Lan’s face before he turned around to stare at Ah Fang. “Ah _Fang,_ it is late. If you have finished your work for the day, why have you not retired? Are we not working you hard enough?”

“No. It. It is— “ Ah Fang looked up and swallowed. In the dark shadows of the room, the whites of his eyes were bright. He glanced at Li Zhong, then Lan, then back at Li Zhong. “Have you heard? Surely you have heard.”

“Heard what?”

“The Great Hall of Prosperity,” Ah Fang said. “The mirrors that line the Great Hall of Prosperity. This morning _all_ of them have cracked!”

“The mirrors in the Great Hall of Prosperity? _Cracked_?”

“It is a _sign_. A sign from the Heavens themselves!”

Lan stared at Ah Fang. The Great Hall of Prosperity was where the King would meet with his Military and Scholar Officials. It was the room where the main decisions of the kingdom was made, a place where the King worked under the Heavens themselves.

This wasn’t a sign of the Heaven’s approval of a new ruler. This wasn’t ambiguous dragons appearing in a puff of cloud. This  — this was as much sign of displeasure from the Heavens as anything could be.

Or was it?

Lan’s heart raced.

 _Still don’t trust us?_ Chun Hua had said. _Well, there is another present for you that will arrive in a few days to prove how much we can be trusted._

Was this really a signal from the Heavens?

Or  — was this the second present from the Ninth Prince?

*******

The last time Lan had been in the palace prison, he had been one of the prisoners held in the cells. The walls were soaked with the memories of his brief stay. Ghosts hid in the shadows of each corner. Lan forced his breathing to be even as he pushed the cart of food down the dark halls. The basket containing Shun’s sticky rice dumplings were at the bottom of the cart. He needed to find a way to get it to him.

The prison guards ate in a small alcove with a table and a few chairs along the eastern walls of the palace. Their food needed to be delivered first before the food for the prisoners would be wheeled to each individual cell. This was the time for Lan to gain permission to access the rest of the prison.

“Your food, sirs,” Lan bowed low as he neared the alcove. He reached down to lift the wooden pot of rice from his cart.

“Oh what’s this? We have someone new.” A prison guard’s hand wrapped around his braid and yanked Lan’s head backward. “A convict slave, by the looks of things.” The same soldier grabbed Lan’s jaw. Lan looked up his smirking face. _Breathe_ ,  he told himself. _Don’t fight._ He needed to look harmless.The more beaten and submissive he appeared, the more likely he would be able to access Shun. “Your food  — sirs,” he said again, voice soft and forced his eyes downcast.

“Well, who have we here?” Pan Guo was a swarthy man whose girth was almost equal to his height but built of solid muscle. His mouth opened to reveal two rows of broken teeth. “What is this? Little Cheng Lan has come back to visit us?” He leaned in close, foul breath wafting over Lan’s face. Lan tried not to gag.

“General.” He tried to dip his head but the grip on his braid barely allowed his head to move an inch. “I am here to bring you all your midday meal.”

“I see,” Pan Guo’s face was so close, their noses were almost touching, Lan could see the network of red blood vessels in the white of Pan Guo’s eyes. “Where is Xiao Hei --  the usual person, little Cheng Lan?”

“He’s  — unwell.” The lie rolled off the tip of his tongue. “Xiao Hei has been in bed all morning. It is not good for someone unwell to be delivering food, sir,” Lan’s voice wavered. His neck ached from being arched back. “So I was sent instead.”

“I see,” Pan Guo said again. He waved a hand. Instantly, the pressure on Lan’s braid let go and it sent Lan stumbling forward to his knees. Lan stayed in that position, and pressed his palms against the ground, head down. _Small and humble. Harmles_ s.

“Well, then, serve our food, little Lan, and then go back to the kitchens and send someone else to do the rest.”

Lan focused on drawing a breath through his nostrils and then out again. “Please, sir,” he said.

“Please? Please what? Are you begging to serve us our food?”

“I was ordered to come here and deliver food, sir.”

“Ordered here to deliver food?” Pan Guo snorted. “Do you think, little Lan, that I am stupid?”

“Sir?” Lan chanced a look up.

Pan Guo smirked. “I bet,” he said, “that when Xiao Hei took to his bed and it asked who wanted to take over his duties that you jumped at the chance. Li Zhong forgets his place.”

Lan’s breath caught in his throat. He could, of course, still ask someone else to deliver food. But, if the _zong zi_ went to the wrong prisoner or if the guards themselves decided to sample the food, it would mean disaster. Even if the _zong zi_ found themselves to Shun and Ming-song undisturbed, there would still be no one to relay the rescue plan. There would be no one to make sure Shun would leave the capital for good. There would be no one to make sure Shun would forget all about Lan.

Lan only had one last chance to save Shun.

“Everyone else is busy with the preparations for the Duanwu Festival. I cannot cook and am the only one who can be spared.”

“The only one who can be spared?” Pan Guo snorted. “What if I let you deliver food to the prisoners, Cheng Lan? I wonder  — I do wonder, if there wasn’t anyone in particular here that you were hoping to see? Didn’t you grow up with General Wei? Were the two of you not captured together? What sort of fool would I be if I let you see him?

Lan forced a shuddering breath into his lungs and turned away — to catch sight of a paper talisman pasting onto the wall of the alcove. It was a common protection against wandering ghosts. All prisons had them. There was always the fear that the soul of a prisoner who died from torture or execution would wander the halls of the prison, unable to rest.

“General Wei and I did grow up together.” Lan wet his lips. “My father and his father were great friends.” It was good that he was in the position he was. There was no way that Pan Guo or any of the other prison guards would be able to see his face as he tried to think of his way around this lie. “When General Wei’s father died, my father made a promise to protect General Wei and he grew up with the rest of my brothers. This  — delivering food to him is a way that I can fulfil my father’s promise to  — ”

Lan’s head snapped to the side from the force of the blow to his face. His ears rang. Pain blossomed from the side of his cheek and burned down his jaw.

“You father,” Pan Guo’s words were slow and soft, “was a traitor. What do his promises matter?”

“My father was a traitor,” Lan said. His fingers pressed into the ground. “But General Wei’s father was not. Please  — it was a promise made to a dying man. I do not wish for General Wei’s father to be unable to find rest because of a broken promise.”

There was a murmuring of voices behind him. Lan let out a soft breath. Some soldiers were more superstitious than others. Even if Pan Guo did not believe him, some of his men did. It might be enough.

“Oh? You are worried about these dead souls?” Pan Guo snorted. “I thought General Wei’s father died in a flood in a place at least three day’s ride from here. Will his ghost really find his way, all the way to the walls of this prison?”

“His son  — General Wei  — is here, is he not?”

Another wave of murmuring. Lan’s fingers curled as he tried to ignore the fluttering of hope in the pit of his stomach.

Pan Guo reached down. His fingers curled around Lan’s chin and forced his head up. “You are rather convincing, Cheng Lan,” Pan Guo said. “I _could_ let you deliver the food to the prisoners  — including General Wei. As you say, it may help appease these poor dead souls. Ghosts though, are such fragile,unpredictable things and General Wei’s father may very well have already drunk his forget-me soup and crossed the river to his next life. There are more tangible risks. The Grand Duke, or rather, our King, is returning soon. Allowing you to do this is not without significant risk for me.”

The roughness of Pan Guo’s thumb brushed across Lan’s bottom lip. Lan’s stomach flipped. He remembered the way Pan Guo’s eyes had darkened with pleasure the first day he had been brought to the palace and forced to his knees.

“I can—” Lan licked his lips. “I can make it worth your while.”

A slow smile slid across Pan Guo’s face. “You can make it worth my while?”

Lan nodded. “The Grand — the King is not here. If no one here tells him, how will he know that you allowed me to make the delivery? One of your soldiers could have done it. Besides, I can come back after I have made the food delivery and  — ” He tasted bitter bile at the back of his throat, “  — I can make it worth all your while. No one needs to know except us.”

Pan Guo threw his head back and laughed. “You? Make it worth our while?” He shook his head and laughed again. “The Grand Duke never had any qualms about sharing you before. I think it would amuse him if a whole group of uncouth guards wanted a quick fuck. There is nothing that you can offer to us, Lan.”

Lan’s stomach flipped again. He swallowed against the rising nausea. “I  — if you let me do this I will be willing.”

“Oh?”

“I…” Lan closed his eyes. “There are many things that they have taught me when they trained me for use. Many techniques. You can always tie me down for a quick fuck but if I come willingly, there are things I can do…” He opened his eyes and looked up at Pan Guo. “All just for the delivery of a few sticky rice dumplings. And the Grand Duke doesn’t even have to know if no one here tells him.”

“I see,” Pan Guo’s hand trailed down Lan’s cheek. When his mouth curved into another smile Lan almost sobbed with relief. “Well Lan, you had better make it worth our while when you come back.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lan pressed his forehead to the cold, hard ground. He had it. He had one last chance. One last chance to see Shun. One last chance to make Shun leave the capital. One last chance to make sure that Shun would hate him so much, he would stay away and never think of Lan again.

Lan couldn’t waste this chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's lots of different recipes for zong zi but since Jin is based on the jiangnan region, Shun and Lan make zhongzi Shanghainese style with rice and fatty pork that's been seasoned with soy, star anise and rice wine.
> 
> I'm in the thick of studying for exams. Next chapter will likely be late April/early May and chapter 14 will be in June-July!


	13. Chapter 13

It was the creak of the cell door opening that made Shun look up. Besides the servants who came to deliver their meals and the interrogators who came to take either him or Ming-song from their cell, they had no other visitors. The cell door was not opened for food. The servants would slide the bowls of rice on the ground between the bars and then move on, head down, without a word. 

It had been a long time since anyone bothered interrogating either him or Prince Ming-song.

The soldier who opened the cell door did not enter. Instead, he stepped to one side, to allow another figure in. “Be quick,” he said.

“I have come to bring you your food.”

_That_ voice stopped all thought. Shun blinked, rubbed his eyes and then pinched himself hard on the arm. He was awake. This was not a dream. This was Lan. Lan was pushing a food cart. Lan was walking through his prison cell door. It was _Lan_ standing in front of him. 

Lan’s face was pale and drawn but he managed to curve his lips into a wan smile as he bowed. “Your Highness. General Wei.”

“Lan,” Shun rushed forward and grabbed Lan by the elbows, pulling Lan towards himself and crushed Lan into his chest. “Lan — how, what  —”

“Shun.” Lan’s voice was soft and Shun barely caught his name breathed across his lips. Shun cupped Lan’s cheeks with both his hands.

“  — are you hurt? Are you well? You look  — you’ve lost weight.”

“Shun.” Lan’s hands curled around his own. “You  — you look thinner too.” He moved his hands down, against the bones of Shun’s wrist and brushed his fingers across a bruise on Shun’s cheek. “You’re hurt. I think you’re hurt worse than me.” 

“ _ Lan…” _ What did his own hurts matter?  Lan  _ here _ .  Lan was still alive. 

A cough rang out behind Shun. Lan instantly dropped his hands and sprang back. “Your Highness,” he said again as he hurried back to his cart. “It is the Duanwu festival soon and I have come to bring you some  _ zhong zi  _ dumplings  — ”

“The Duanwu festival is not for another two weeks.” Prince Ming-song rose to his feet. “For my uncle to ask for you to deliver me this food must mean that our execution date has been set. It seems, General Wei, that we are not expected to live to see this year’s Duanwu festival.”

Shun did not think it was possible for Lan to look any more pale. Lan opened his mouth and then closed it again, chewing on his lower lip.

“It cannot be a surprise,” Ming-song continued, “after all, General Wei, you led an attack in my name that killed the King himself but left my uncle alive. I am surprised it has taken so long to pass a  — “

“You Highness.” The words spilled from Shun’s throat. “I think you need to stop talking.” 

“Oh? Stop talking? I think Cheng Lan needs to understand the consequences of his actions. After all, wasn’t he the one who agreed with my uncle to take away the only hope of any Resistance.”

“Your  _ Highness _ .” The soldier standing outside the cell was still there, waiting, but Shun didn’t care. He turned around and took one step, then another towards Ming-song. “It was not Lan’s  _ fault _ .”

“Not his fault? It wasn’t his fault that he agreed to tell my uncle the whereabouts of all the members of the Resistance? When he knew that nothing he said would help him, or us?”

“You  — ” Shun glanced at Lan’s figure, standing next to the food car, and then rounded back onto Ming-song. “Have you ever cared about, ever loved someone so much you would do anything for them, even if it were beyond reason? If our roles had been reversed, if it had been me, I would have done the same thing.”

“Oh? So the both of you  — ”

“ _ Shun _ .” 

Shun looked up. He had his hand in the air, ready to strike Prince Ming-song. 

“Shun, look at me.”

Shun slowly lowered his arm and turned around. Lan was in the same spot, next to the food cart, shoulders hunched. 

“It was my fault,” Lan said. “I knew it was futile and even then, I still betrayed us all.” He glanced at the soldier at the cell door and bit his lip.  “I have not heard about an execution date being set, but -” Lan bent down and took a basket from the underneath the food cart. He lifted the lid to reveal two leaf-wrapped sticky rice dumplings. Shun tried not to see how much Lan’s smile was strained. “I remember how much you loved  _ zhong zi,  _ Shun.”

Everything from the cracked wrappers to the amount of rice stuck to the outside of the dumplings made it clear that this was Lan’s own handiwork. Shun’s vision swam before his eyes. He had to rub his sleeve across his face to clear it. 

“It is likely, as you say, Your Highness, a last meal. I hope the two of you enjoy it.” Lan placed each dumpling in a bowl and set the bowls on the floor. Then he put the basket back on the cart and bowed again.

“Lan.” Shun stepped forward and grabbed Lan’s wrist. “Lan, you have to know it, I don’t blame you at all. None of this is your fault.”

Lan was looking down on the floor in silence. Shun watched his throat bob up and down as he swallowed.

But when he lifted his face up, it was Shun’s turn to swallow. Lan’s eyes had gone flat and cold. 

“You don’t blame me at all?” Lan’s fingers curled around Shun’s and prised them from his wrist, one by one. Something his voice sounded faraway  and strange. His smile twisted into something ugly. “Well, Shun, I need to tell you something. I blame you. I blame you for all of this.”

Shun took a step back. “Lan?”

“You are right, Shun. None of this is my fault. It is all yours. I didn’t want to go back into that fight. I wanted to take your mother and just  _ leave. _ I didn’t want to fight in the Resistance. I was sick of all of this. I just wanted a peaceful life but you  —” Lan laughed, a strangled, dying thing. “You wanted more, didn’t you? You couldn’t be satisfied with a simple rescue. You decided that you wanted to avenge my family’s blood. Avenge blood that wasn’t even yours to avenge.”

It was like Lan had taken a bucket of ice cold water and dumped it over Shun’s head. Shun stood, motionless, mouth open but unable to form any words. The bruise on his face where Lan had so tenderly brushed his fingers not a moment ago still tingled. He wanted to bring his hand up to touch the mark, to remember how Lan had touched it, but his limbs would not obey his mind.

Lan continued: “We could have been free, Shun. You, me, your mother on that little farm you talked about. Think of it Shun: a little farm, hidden in the north-western corner of the kingdom. You wanted a cow? Some chickens? We could have had all of that. All of it. We could have faded out into anonymity and lived out the rest of our lives in peace.” Lan’s chest rose and fell as he sucked in a breath and his fists clenched at his side. “But you could not be satisfied, could you? And now  — now look at us. Look at me.” 

Lan stepped forward, reached behind his head and tugged his slave braid over his shoulder. He waved it at Shun. “I’m a slave again, Shun. I am the Grand Duke - the new King’s slave. Do you know what he does to me behind closed doors? Do you know the sorts of things I have had to do under his desk?” Lan, stopped. They were nose to nose, Lan’s face a mere hair's breadth from Shun’s.  “What sort of life have you sentenced me to, Wei Shun, with your thoughtlessness?”

Shun’s chest squeezed in a tight ache. Air rushed in through hislips but his throat was too dry.  _ But your father _ he wanted to say.  _ Your brothers, your nephews and nieces.  _ All he could see was Lan’s slave braid. The dark shadows under Lan’s eyes. What sort of horrors had Lan needed to endure, all because of Shun’s mistake.

Lan reached out. His hand gripped Shun’s wrist, each finger a painful pressure point. He leaned in close. “I hate you, Shun.” Lan’s voice cracked at that last word. He paused and Shun watched his shoulders rise and fall when he took in another breath. When he spoke again, his voice was flat and empty, a contrast to the fingers that still pressed down against Shun’s skin. “I never want to see you again. Promise me that I will never see you again. That when you leave you, you won’t come back.”

“Lan?”

Shun gasped as Lan’s fingers spasmed down even tighter. 

“You’ve done this to me,” Lan said. “Can’t you at least promise me something in return?” His eyes bored up into Shun’s, unblinking.

Shun’s ears roared. This  — this was just like that day ten years ago when he had grabbed Lan’s wrist at the foot of the stairs to the entry of the palace.  _ Why would I marry a peasant-born commoner like you _ Lan had said that day and then peeled Shun’s hand off his wrist and flung it back.

At that time, Shun had been  _ so  _ angry. All their years together had been tossed carelessly away by that one sentence. He had not thought it was possible to feel so much pain. 

Now, the pain was worse. This wasn’t the rejection of a spoiled Scholar-Official’s son. Lan was right. All of this: their capture, Lan’s enslavement, Shun’s impending execution  —  all of it was Shun’s fault.  _ We could leave the city,  _ Lan had said. At that time, it had not been too late to extract themselves from this mess.

Shun, though, had been filled with self righteous anger, with the need to avenge the blood of old Offical Chen and the family who had allowed peasant-born Shun to grow up beside their sons. He wanted to unleash pain on the Grand Duke. He wanted the Grand Duke’s blood.

Shun had wanted to avenge what had been done to Lan. Now, he couldn’t even offer Lan simple protection.

Shun’s his lips moved against his own will. “I promise.” he said. He deserved all of Lan’s words and Lan’s rejection. If this was what Lan truly wanted, then it was the least he could give him.

“Promise me on your father’s grave, and mine.”

“I promise. On your father’s grave and mine.” 

Shun wanted to lurch forward and laugh hysterically. He was going to be executed. Even if Lan wanted him to come back, there was no way he could. Shun was go to die and Lan  — what sort of life was Lan going to have?

Lan’s fingers slid off Shun’s skin. Shun reached forward, fingers grasping air as Lan walked past him. The patches on his skin where Lan’s hands had held onto were cold, missing Lan’s touch instantly even though the pressure-pain was gone. 

Lan stopped before Ming-song and bowed once again. “Your Highness,” he said. “I have heard that you like pine trees. It might be likely that they will move you to the city prisons. When they do, there is a herbalist’s shop about halfway to the main prisons with quite interesting carving on its doors that you might be interested in.”

“Oh?” Ming-song raised an eyebrow. “I thought many of the pine trees within our glorious capital have been cut down.” He laughed. “I’ll be interested in a wooden carving on my way to my execution, will I?”

Lan shrugged. “You may not be,” He said, “But even so, it is a nice wood carving. You should look out for it.” He bowed yet again and turned to leave. 

Lan’s words didn’t make sense. Shun grabbed a hold of his sleeve as he walked past. “Lan — what do you mean by all of this?”

When Lan shook his arm away, it felt like Lan had taken a knife and sliced his arm clean off. 

“Shun,” Lan said. He refused to even turn and look at Shun’s face. “I meant what I said. I never, ever want to see you again.” 

“Lan  — ”

“Goodbye, Shun.” Lan swept past him,  pushed the food cart out of the prison cell, around the corner and down the hall. He did not look back.

The door closed behind him with a dull clang of finality.

“Well,” Ming-song said once the guard had left them. “If this is from my uncle, it very well might be poisoned. Still, it could be our only last good meal before our death. We should try and enjoy it.”

Shun slid down onto the floor and looked down at his dumpling, lonely in its bowl. Already, a corner of the leaf wrapper was sliding loose. A lump welled up in his throat. When they were children, he and Lan had folded these dumplings together many times. No matter how many times he had held Lan’s hand and talked him through all the steps it took to encase the grains of raw rice in bamboo leaf, Lan had never been able to get it right. 

His throat was so thick he couldn’t swallow past it. 

“I’m not hungry,” Shun said.

“Not hungry? Then it will go to waste.” Ming-song was already sitting down and unwrapping his dumpling. “Perhaps, it would be a blessing if this was poisoned. Some,” his lips twitched in a self depreciating smile, “some say that poison is the merciful way out.” 

The merciful way out? Shun looked down at his dumpling. He didn’t deserve the merciful way out. There was no such path available to Lan. Lan was a slave again and it was, as Lan said, all Shun’s fault. Why should Shun enter the peace of death and leave Lan behind to suffer?

Under the wan stream of sunlight from the barred window on on their cell wall, the sticky rice on the outside of the leaf shell of the dumpling still gleamed. In his mind’s eye Shun could see the way Lan would have twisted the leaf in an effort to hold it and forgotten to keep his thumb out of the side, leaving the smear of rice grains there. Would Lan have chewed his bottom lip in concentration or furrowed his brow?

Shun tugged the tie that held the dumpling casing loose. As expected with all of Lan’s dumplings the casing came away in one messy heap. What filling would he have placed inside? Shun had always preferred the savoury taste of soy soaked fatty pork but Lan liked his  _ zhong zi _ sweet, with red beans and jujube dates, dipped in sugar. A short laugh burst from Shun’s lips: an echo of the twisted emptiness he felt inside. Lan had clearly said how much he hated Shun. Why would Lan care what the fillings of the dumplings were?

_ I know how much you like zhong zi, _ Lan had said. If Lan hated him so much, why would he have spent the effort to make it? It would have been easier enough to leave such a task to someone who was faster. He would then never have to seen Shun again. Why had he felt the need to come into the prison and tell it to Shun’s face how much he hated him? 

Shun looked at his dumpling as it sat, white and shining in his bowl. At least, Shun could break it open to look inside, even if his mouth still tasted like ash. He picked up a chopstick and stabbed it into the soft, sticky rice. Instead of sliding smoothly all the way through, it met with hard resistance halfway. Shun frowned and picked up his other chopstick, using it to scrape away the rice around the hard core. Was it a bone? A nut of some sort? 

The grains of rice slid away to reveal the dark gleam of steel.

Shun looked up. Ming-song had already pulled apart most of his dumpling. Jutting out from the white sticky rice was the end of a steel key.

Ming-song met Shun’s eyes. “I have to apologise, General Wei. It seems that I need to take back all those words I said about Cheng Lan.”

Shun used his chopstick to slowly scrape away all the grains of sticky, glutinous rice. Out emerged another small dark key. The kind of key used to lock a prisoner’s chains or lock a prison cart.

Lan’s fingers had held his wrist in a bruising grip as he said  _ Promise me that I will never see you again. That when you leave you, you won’t come back. _

It was the second time that Shun felt as if he was immersed in ice cold water. His hands shook as he lifted the keys to his eyes. As Lan left he had made Shun make a promise.A promise that made no sense. If Shun was going to die, he wasn’t ever going to come back. Lan didn’t have to ask Shun to make this promise. Lan didn’t have to look  up at Shun’s face and made him repeat that promise on his father’s grave and on Shun’s all the while knowing what was in the two dumplings he was delivering. 

Shun, as always, was the complete and utter idiot.

Shun had to swallow three times to find his voice. “Lan mentioned, didn’t he, that there was a particular carving you might like to see, before you died?”

The carving, Lan had said was halfway between the palace and city prisons. It was likely that they would pass it when they were being transported. What was it for? Was it a place where a signal would be placed? Was it the place where they should attempt to escape?

The keys Lan had given them had the unmistakable notch and furrows of a master key. Even if they managed to unlock themselves, though, there was no way they could manage an escape, unarmed against a whole team of guards. The Pine Resistance should have been captured with the information Lan had given the Grand Duke. However, if the Pine Resistance was truly no more, how hadLan managed to get hold of these keys? Where were the Pine Resistance hiding now, if they were still free? Was there another group behind all of this, another group who also wanted Prince Ming-song on the throne?

Lan had looked up into Shun’s eyes as he said  _ I never want to see you again. Promise me that I will never see you again. That when you leave you, you won’t come back. _ He had said those words even as he knew exactly what was in the  _ zhong zi _ dumplings he had made. He had forced Shun to swear the most binding promise he could: a promise made on Lan’s father’s grave and his own.

Shun hoped that they did not need the protection of the ancestors going forward. He was going to break this foolhardy promise as soon as he managed to leave the prison. There was no way he would ever leave Lan behind. Lan’s ancestors, and Shun’s, would have to just roll in their graves.

Shun turned and his eyes met Ming-song’s. “You are right. Lan did mention a carving of a pine tree halfway between the city and the palace prisons.” 

The corner of Ming-song’s lips tugged up in a smile. He wiped the rest of the sticky rice residue off the key he held with the hem of his prison garb, and then slipped the key into his sleeve. “It seems that the evergreen pine tree is rather hard to kill, General. I am looking forward to seeing this carving.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My written exam is in late May so I'm hoping to get chapter 14 out late June-July! Also if you haven't checked it out, my beta reader [ Avoliot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Avoliot/pseuds/Avoliot) has writing an awesome original story called [The Course of Honour](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9720611/%22)


	14. Chapter 14

The morning of Shun and Ming-song’s transfer to the city prisons dawned unseasonably cold and grey with tendrils of mist that peeked through the small barred window on on their cell wall. There was no sign of the early morning sun behind that cold, grey shroud. Their entire cell was almost as dark as it would be at night.

Across their cell, Ming-song caught Shun’s eye. The corner of his lip tugged up as he snorted. “Do you think this weather means that the Heavens have turned their back on us?”

Shun shrugged. It had dawned a clear and bright day the day the Resistance had attacked the Grand Duke  — and been captured. The Heavens were unpredictable in their favour.

“There are two frequently used routes between the palace prisons and the main city prisons for the transportation of prisoners. Both pass by the herbalist’s shop with the carved pine trees,” Shun said instead. “If the date of our transfer has not be widely publicised, it is more likely that because of your name, they will choose the route that winds through the backstreets, to avoid any unwanted attention.”

Ming-song leaned forward in the corner, where he sat on the loose straw that had been scattered onto the stone floor. “You may very well be right but it is not just I who would attract unwanted attention. I believe that  _ you _ are known as the People’s General. It is not everyday that one of their own ascends to such high rank.”

“High rank?” Shun snorted. “And look where I am now.”

Ming-song’s lip twitched. What little light could filter into their cell cast shadows across his face. His cheeks were hollowed, his jaw too sharp. How much worse, Shun wondered, did he himself look? “The backstreets would make things easier for them to defend if an escape was planned. The streets are narrower and the soldiers will be packed tighter. They will not be able to use anything longer than a short sword.”

“Nor would the guards who are packed so close together. So it may be easier for a rescue attempt anyway, with swords or and mostly hand to hand combat. Although, in the open streets there will be more ground for the soldiers to cover.”

Shun grunted. “It will be harder for our men to hold the soldiers back, and much harder for us to find an escape path, if the fighting is all packed in together. Easier for a defender’s point of view.”

Ming-song inclined his head. “As you say, General.”

“Whichever way they go, they will need to be armed appropriately. I suppose your men already know the exact route if they managed to get Lan the key.” 

“Perhaps. These are master keys, are they not? I expect that they will have us in shackles us as well as transport us in locked prison carts.”

“There are master keys which should open both any shackles and the locks of the prison cart.” Shun said. “I do hope that your men also knew which keys to copy.”

It was Ming-song’s turn to grunt. “What I don’t understand,” he said eventually, “Is why my men would entrust  _ Lan _ with these keys."

Shun started. “What? What do you mean by  _ that _ ?”

“Well,” Ming-song held up his hands. “I admit, Lan took considerable risk to pass us these keys, but with Lan’s previous betrayal why would they risk using him at all?”

“And  _ you _ know he had no choice but to give the Grand Duke that information  — and it seems that despite that, you men are still safe. Besides, how was Lan able to get down here, to see us? He must have already paid some sort of cost.”

“I admit, I don’t understand that either. How was it that Lan was able to come down here at all? Even if this was a trap set by my uncle  — we are already here, in the palm on his hand. There is nothing for him to gain in giving us fake keys and  _ so _ , it must be that the keys are from my men  — don’t scowl at me like that General.  All I am saying is that it was a large risk to use Lan.”

Shun’s scowl only deepened. “Whoever it was of your men who made that decision must have known Lan very well. Lan is loyal, your Highness. Of course he would have found a way to pass the keys to us. Who knows what he has  —” The creak of their cell door swinging open sliced through the middle of Shun’s sentence. His mouth snapped shut, just as Pan Guo, Commander-General of the the city guard, sauntered into the cell, flanked by two other soldiers. 

All three: Pan Guo and the two soldiers, were already dressed in full armour with a helmet under one arm. Already ready for the transport even though it was barely past sunrise. They must have been worried about the attention he and Ming-song would create. Did that mean they would also be accompanied by the full city guard?

Pan Guo stopped forward and stopped when he was standing a hair’s breadth from Shun. He crossed his arms across against his chest. His face was scrubbed bright, freshly shaven, and an obscenely red piece of cloth was wound around his top knot. 

“Good morning, General Wei. Your Highness.” 

“General Pan,” Shun said.

A slow, wide smile spread across Pan Guo’s face. “It is a good morning, isn’t it, General Wei? A good morning for a little trip across the Capital. Come, your Highness, General. We have prepared your carriages for you. I have made sure that they are of a high degree of comfort, as befits your stations.” Pan Guo’s lip curled. “Except, of course  — ” He turned his head and spat on the ground. “General Wei was born of peasant mud.”

Shun’s hands clenched into fists behind his back. He caught Ming-song’s eye across their cell but Ming-song shook his head. The more trouble they caused, the more secure their transport measures would be. Punching the smug expression off Pan Guo’s face would not be a good idea.

Pan Guo moved as if he was turning to leave the cell but stopped just before he took a step. “Ah  — I almost forgot to mention this: General Wei, I can see you why you have such an attachment to that slave.” 

Shun started. “What?”  _ Lan? _

Pan Guo swung around again. He walked forward, each step slow and deliberate, until he came to a stop just in front of Shun. 

“He was so desperate to see you. So desperate to give you your last meal.” Pan Guo laughed. “He told us that he had talents and, well.” A slow wide smile spread across Pan Guo’s face. “He most definitely has talents.” The guards with Pan Guo laughed. Pan Guo’s grin widened. “His mouth for instance  — his tongue. But you know all about that, don’t you General? I guess if it were me, I would get attached to that sort of thing too.”

Shun had barely heard the words and the the next moment, he was being dragged back. Ming-song’s arms were two vice-like bands around his own. One was was locked around Shun’s chest and the other around Shun’s waist. Shun grit his teeth and shoved an elbow back to try to dislodge Ming-song’s grip. He was met with a grunt of pain but the arms around him loosened. No matter. He still managed to drag them both forward two steps. 

“Let me go,” he hissed. “He  — he  —  _ Lan _ .”

“I am not letting you go.” Ming-song’s voice was hot and heavy against Shun’s ear, the words pitched soft Shun still had to strain to hear them despite their proximity. “If you put up a fight, they will secure you down, General. They will bind you with rope and chain, with even more than they have already planned. Then, what we have been given may not be enough.”

What did that matter? Lan. There would have been no way Lan would have done such a thing willingly. He needed punch the teeth out of Pan Guo’s face.

“Cheng Lan chose to make his sacrifice. Why do you think they let him see us? Are you going to waste what he has paid for a scrap of the pretense of honour that will not undo what is already done?”

Pan Guo’s grin rose in front of Shun, leering. Every fibre of Shun’s being wanted to step forward and knock the teeth out of that smile. To pummel him into the ground and see him scream for daring to touch  _ Shun’s  _ Lan.

“We need to escape, General. Only then can we hope to come back and save Cheng Lan.”

The hardness of the steel key pressed into Shun’s skin where it was tied against his forearm.  Lan would never have allowed anyone else touch him in such a way willingly but  — that Lan was able to deliver two keys to them in the middle of the prisons was an impossibility too.

Shun could not change whatever price Lan had already paid. How would Shun come back to rescue Lan if he threw away the opportunity that Lan had bought him?

“And you know what?” Pan Guo  leaned forward until he and Shun were nose to nose. “He has such a pretty voice too, to match his talented tongue. I enjoyed finding all the ways I could make him scream. You get to a point and then his voice breaks in a most  _ delightful _ way.” 

Shun turned away. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. Pan Guo lifted an arm up  — and Shun’s ears rang as pain blossomed on the side of hisface. 

“Look at how much you’ve fallen. General Wei Shun.How pathetic. Get on your knees, where you belong, peasant.”

Ming-song’s arms tightened around him again but Shun shook his head. “I won’t do anything stupid.” He said under his breath and then pushed back and felt Ming-song slip away. The stone floor was hard against his knees when he sank to the ground.

“I knew it was a mistake from the very first moment you rose from being an nameless dirt-nosed boy to a lieutenant. A peasant, as an officer  — someone who could be of the same rank as me?” Pan Guo laughed. He leaned down so all that Shun could see was Pan Guo’s sneer. “If only your beloved people could see you now, General Wei Shun. So much for being the people’s General.” Pan Guo leaned back and motioned to two more soldiers that had gathered at the door to the prison. “The arrangements have all been prepared. Take them away.”

  
  
  
  
  


***

They shackled Shun and Ming-song’s ankles together and locked their wrists behind them, before shoving them each into a separate prison cart: cages that were locked onto four wheels and sealed with a heavy chain around its door. The world outside was blanketed in dense white fog, so thick that Shun could barely make out the bars of the cage in front of him. This was the sort of fog known to covered the deep valleys of neighbouring kingdom of Xu, but Shun had never before seen such a thing anywhere in Jin.

The soldiers that surrounded their prisoner cart were shifting shadows in the fog. It was only the crunch of heavy boots on flagstone and the fuzzy silhouette of a helmet that revealed them to be anything other than the usual citizens of the capital. Their voices carried through the mist. 

“This isn’t right,” one soldier said. “It’s unnatural  — and now we’ve had three days of it!”

“Not even my grandmother says she’s seen weather like this.”

“Do you remember how in the north, earlier they say dragons — ” The words were cut off by a dull thump. There was silence, and then:

“Shut up,  _ shut up _ . Do you want to keep you head between your shoulders?”

Shun’s spine tingled. Dragons were masters of the water and foretold future kings. They controlled the weather: the clouds and the rain. If Shun had wished for an ideal sort of weather for their rescue, this would be it. The creak of cart wheels and heavy stamp of soldier’s boots could not be hidden by the fog but the rebels could move in silence, easily shrouded by the mist, until they attacked.

Shun remembered that evening at the village festival where they had released sky lanterns of hope and wishes into the night sky. The way storm clouds had gathered and the lightning that had weaved through them. Was it really dragons he and Lan had seen that evening, twisted amongst the clouds of the summer storm? Or was it simply a trick of light and shadow? 

Shun could feel the press of the steel key against his arm, just below his elbow. Perhaps today, the Heavens were on their side. The fog was so thick that unless the soldiers peered closely into the prison-cart, they wouldn’t be able to see what was in Shun’s hands at all. 

Shun twisted his arms and the rough steel chafed against his skin, but the key along his arm slid down. He bit his lip and pulled the length of his sleeve down so that it would create a flap and hide whatever was in his palm. He twisted his arm again and used his free hand to nudge against the key where it lay on his skin  — and felt it slide down into the center of his hand. Shun let out a breath. If he shifted his arm every so slightly now, he could just,  _ just  —  _ yes. The key was positioned at the lock of his chains. Even if he could not see the herbalist’s house through the fog then he could make sure that he was at least prepared when the rebels attacked.

The soldiers around the prison cart had fallen into an uneasy silence, broken only by the stamp of feet. The prison carts rocked side to side as they moved forward in a deceptively soothing rhythm. Shun let his eyes drift closed. With this sort of fog it wouldn’t be sight that he could rely on. He needed to wait for the sounds of an attack.

There was dull thump in the distance, so soft Shun thought for a moment that he had imagined it. He opened his eyes. In the distance, he could see a shifting of shadows, forms bunching together. Then the clang of metal against metal, one of the shadows falling out of his line of vision, and another dull thud. Shun looked up in time to see more than a dozen forms descend from the mist above them into the middle of the line of soldiers. His cart lurched forward and ground to a sudden stop.

Shun slid his key into the lock of the shackles around his wrists and it turned as easily as a knife sliding through soft lard. He  reached down to unlock the shackles around his ankles.

“Wei Shun!” 

Shun looked up. Ah Chung’s face appeared at the bars of the prison cart. “Do you have the  — ” 

“Behind you!”

Ah Chung swung around, swinging his sword towards the shadow that had risen behind him. For a moment, he disappeared into the stark white fog. Shun heard the clash of sword meeting sword, a soft  _ oof  _ sound and another thud. When Ah Chung returned, there was blood dripping down his sword. “Wei Shun?”

“Yes, yes, I have it.” Shun leaned forward and slid the key through the bars.

Ah Chung nodded and passed Shun a sword through the bars in return. “Ready yourself,” he said as he moved to open the cart door.

When the door swung open, Shun didn’t wait for Ah Chung to hold out a hand. He jumped from the prison cart, sword in hand, and landed with a soft thud on the flagstones. “The prince?’

“With Xue-li. This way, we need to hurry  —  ” The crunch of heavy boot on stone interrupted Ah Chung’s words. He broke off, turning away from Shun and crouching down into a fighting stance. Shun didn’t need to look up to see that the outline of an armoured soldier was approaching them from the white.

Ah Chung caught Shun’s eye and raised an eyebrow as if to say:  _ Can you fight? _

Shun shrugged and felt a twang of pain as the muscles of his back bunched and stretched the bruised skin overlying them. He readied his own sword as he slid down into a low crouch.  _ I guess we'll find out.  _

The shadows split into two as they approached. Two soldiers. Not one. Shun caught Ah Chung’s eye again and jerked his head. Ah Chung nodded. He would take the one approaching from the right, and leave Shun the one on the left. 

The soldier who approached Shun was tall and  thin: gangly and awkward with limbs that were still too long and armour that was too heavy on his slender frame. Underneath his helmet, he  looked too young to shave. He held out his sword in a stance that was clearly unpracticed. The tip of his blade wavered as he approached. “Traitor, I don’t want to kill you. My duty is to just deliver you to the city prison.”

“Ah,” Shun watched the soldier as he circled around him.  “But I’m a traitor and I am sure that entering the city prison is a step closer to my grave.”

“ _ Traitor _ ,” the young soldier's sword wavered more violently. “Don’t  — don’t make me attack you. I  — I don’t want to have to kill you.”

“Don’t want to have to kill me?” Shun bared his teeth, “I’m a dangerous traitor, maybe if you attack me, I will kill you.”

Shun thought the soldier was going to drop his sword. He blinked rapidly under his helmet and shook his head. “No,  _ no _ you are only saying this to confuse me. I…” he swallowed. “I an an honourable man and you are not. I order you to get back into the prison cart.”

“What if I say no? Then, I suppose we would have to fight.”

In the corner of his eye Shun saw Ah Chung duck down in a feint, before reaching up and plunging his sword into the weak point of his opponent’s armour  — right into his stomach. He let out a breath as he turned back to his own opponent - who was still having trouble holding up his sword.

“If you turn around,” Shun offered, “I will not come after you.”

“ _ No, _ ” The soldier took a step forward, swinging his sword back. Shun met the blow as it swung forward, and all it took was a twist of his own blade, and the soldier’s sword went spinning out of his hand to clatter in the flagstones below. 

“Look,” Shun said as he raised his sword again. “I also would prefer not to kill you.” 

The soldier stepped back and drew a dagger out, holding it before him with both hands. “Traitor.”

Shun wanted to sigh. It would be easy to knock the smaller blade out of the soldier’s hands, but what then? He frowned and took a step forward. The soldier took a step back. Shun took a step to the left. The soldier took a step in the opposite direction  — to Shun’s right. He stretched out his dagger at arms length. 

“Are you married yet?” Shun asked, “Do you have children? If you died today  — it would be a hard thing for your parents to have to bury their child.”

The soldier’s mouth clamped down in one straight, hard line. “Get back into the prison cart.”

Shun sighed. “I hope that  — ” he said. He took half a step to the left and as the soldier scrambled towards his right, raised his sword up through a smooth arch and brought the flat of it down hard on soldier’s helmet with a heavy clang. The soldier stared at Shun, eyes wide for a brief moment, before his eyes rolled back as he fell into a crumpled heap. Shun crouched down and put his fingers on the side of the soldier’s neck. Good. He still had a pulse.

When Shun looked up there were more shadows approaching in the white distance. He and Ah Chung would soon be surrounded. Next to Shun, Ah Chung shook his head.  _ Too many,  _ he mouthed. Shun nodded. They weren’t here to fight. They were here to escape and the longer they took, the smaller their chance of success. They needed to find a way out.

The soldiers approaching them were still fuzzy shadows that were just starting to solidify into their true forms. They were far off in the distance. That meant the soldiers could not see them clearly either. They would be even less likely to even see them as two men standing in all this fog. Shun took in a breath. At times like this everyone relied more on their ears than their eyes. The problem with relying on a single sense, is that the single sense can be easily fooled.

Shun crouched down, fingers brushing the cold, wet flagstones. Above him, Ah Chung frowned. “What  — ”

Shun shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips. His other hand curled around what he had been looking for. Three loose pebbles on the road. He stood slowly and then, reaching his arm back, threw them, as far as he could, into the distance of fog. They clattered as they hit the ground.

“This way - there are more running this way!” The shadows in the distance changed direction abruptly and ran in the direction the pebbles had been thrown.

Shun let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. It  _ worked. _

Beside him, Ah Chung was already turning. “Good,” he said, and then, “follow me,” and he disappeared off into the mist. Shun had to run to catch up.

The pattering of their feet against the damp flagstones was masked by the sounds of fighting around them. They moved forward, turned to the right around one corner, to the left around the other. Around them, the fog twisted and swirled, hiding everything a bare two hands’ breadth in front of them. Shun could only hope Ah Chung had some way of knowing where they were going.

The next corner they turned revealed two shadows in the distance. Shun froze. The shadows didn’t move. If they were soldiers, perhaps they had not seen them yet. If he could find another way to distract them….

Ah Chung’s hand closed around Shun’s wrist and Shun was yanked to the side. “Ah Chung  — ” Shun saw a blur of a carving —   _ a pine tree? _  — as he stumbled sidewards into a dark room, his outreached hand the only thing that stopped him from crashing into a set of chairs and tables. The door clicked shut behind him.

They entered a long, wide room, with a low table in the center, a couch to one side and a wall full of drawers. Dim light filtered in past windows that were shuttered closed, highlighting outlines of the shadowed figures in the dark room. This must be a herbalist’s shop.  The air thick with the bitter mustiness of old herbs. Shun could just make out three other figures standing in the shadows. One would have to be Ah Chung, and that meant other two must be  — 

“General.”

Shun could not yet see her face but he recognised Xue-li’s voice. Next to her, Ming-song’s shadow leaned against a wall, one hand clutched around an arm. 

“If it is only General Wei we are waiting for, we should go, Xue-li.” Ming-song straightened but his hand remained around his arm. “The fog might have hidden us temporarily but the soldiers will come in here looking for us before too long.”

Shun looked around and counted the figures again. One. Two. Three. Four. “What about the other rebels?”

“Over the rooftops,” Xue-li said. “Today’s weather is truly a blessing. We know where we have left our ropes but the soldiers cannot see them. The signal has already gone out that we are all inside here, safe, and our people will disappear skywards before the soldiers would even think to look up. Of course, we could not rely on the two of you being able to climb.”

“But you said that we are not in the safe zone yet,” Ming-song said. “It won’t take long for the soldiers to start knocking on the doors of the surrounding buildings.”

If Ah-Chun could find this place through the mist, then so could the soldiers. The pine tree carvings at the doors would increase suspicion.“Of course, we should move quickly. Do we need to thank the owners of the shop? It is not a little risk they have taken, allowing us here”

“Ah  —” Xue-li’s lips quirked. “Physician Li who owns this place was called out of the city this morning to visit a sick aunt in a neighbouring village. If rebels happened to break into his shop, it is hardly his fault. Besides, she is so very sick. He may never be able to return here.”

Shu’s lip tugged up. It was a wise and convenient arrangement.. Even if the owner of this shop was working with the rebels, he would be an easy target once this cleared. “And, your highness’ arm  — ?”

Ming-song looked down as if noticing that his hand clutched his arm for the first time. He shook his head. “I can move, General. There is time enough to attend to this when we get to where we need to.”

“Ming — ” Xue-li paused, glanced at Ming-song and then at Shun. “His  _ highness  _ is right. The sooner we leave this place, the sooner we get any injuries seen to.” 

Shun nodded. “Let’s go then.”   
  


Xue-li motioned her head to the back of the herbalist’s shop. It was quite common for these sorts of shops that lined the streets to have a store in the front and a home for the owner’s family in the back, separated often by a small courtyard. When Shun stepped out into the courtyard he saw that there were two stones that had been moved apart to reveal a set of steps. “This leads to the sewers!”

Xue-li looked over her shoulders with a smile. “Of course. Building any store around a drainage point into the sewers almost guarantees protection from any flooding in heavy rain. All medicinal stores need to stay dry so flooding for a physician-herbalist would be a disaster.”

“Of course,” Shun echoed. “It is convenient, then that we have escaped into a herbalist’s shop.” 

Xue-li laughed. “After you, General Wei.” 

Ah Chun lead the way, disappearing down steps into the gaping hole between the flagstones. Ming-song followed after, then Shun, and finally Xue-li came in, pausing to slide the stones back to their original place. Ah Chung lit a torch that had been tucked into a crevice on the side of the stone passageway and lit it before motioning the whole party forward.

“Where is it exactly that we are going?” Ming-song was keeping step with Ah Chung but even in the torchlight, Shun could see that his face was pale, his breathing heavy.

“It won’t be long, your highness,” was Ah Chung’s answer.

“How did you all get to safety?” Shun asked. “The Grand Duke’s men  — they didn’t find you?”

“Well,” Xue-li said, “the day after that failed attack  — ” She paused as they turn sharply down one corridor and then started up another flight of stairs. “The day after that attack we received messages from the Ninth Prince’s people. Our hideaway was not safe, they said. We needed to find somewhere else to move. Then some others came forward and offered us another place to hide. They said they were also from the Ninth Prince.”

“The Ninth Prince warned you?” Ming-song snorted. “My brother  —   _ my brother _ , Wen Ming-yu? I know he has been lucky in some of the things he has overheard and told us, but most days he is either drunk, in bed getting over drink, or hiding in his rooms from creditors, when of course he is not ill. Besides, how did he manage to get a message to you all the way from his new husband in Xu?”

“I have heard that the Ninth Prince took some of your mother’s pet pigeons with him to Xu,” Xue-li said. “Your Highness, I grew up with you. I know the type of person the Ninth Prince is just as well as you  _ but _ the day after we left the merchant houses they were raided. It seems that despite being married to a new husband in Xu, the Ninth Prince is following information in Jin.” She took another turn and they stepped into a light-flooded staircase. Above them, there was a hole in the stone ceiling: another entranceway to the sewers. Xue-li led them as they walked up, one by one, into the sunlight. 

In the time they had spent in the sewers, the fog had almost totally lifted to leave nothing but a thin veil of mist. Shun looked around. They were standing in the middle of a series of tall buildings built around landscaped garden. A walkway rounded one corner and flowed onto a bridge that spanned over a lotus covered pond. In one corner of the courtyard, a carefully constructed waterfall trickled down the modelled limestone mountains into an imitation of a river that snaked around flower beds before flowing into the pond. The reedy voice of a flute drifted in from one a distance. Red lanterns decorated the open hallways.

Red lanterns would only be hung in the halls of one of the houses of the Capital’s pleasure districts. Without them, this place could have easily been any of the wealthy mansions of the city. With them hung up in every corner, there was only one place this could possibly be.

“This…” Ming-song said. “This is…”

“Yes.” Xue-li inclined her head. “Your Highness, General Wei, welcome to Hibiscus House.”

Shun exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Ming-song.  _ Hibiscus House. _ Hibiscus House was the largest pleasure house in the Capital: a place of music, and theatre and whores. It was owned by none other than Master Huo Zi Guang: merchant, gambler, and one of Prince Ming-yu’s closest friends.


	15. Chapter 15

“Welcome to Hibiscus House.”

Shun turned towards the echo of Xue-li’s words and froze. Madame Bai Qinhui, senior courtesan at Hibiscus House and the most renowned of all of Jin’s courtesans, was known well for her characteristic features: eyebrows that were too strong for the current fashion, and her long hooked nose. Even though he had never seen Qinhuii in person before, Shun knew exactly who it was.

Of all the pleasure houses in Jin’s entertainment district, Hibiscus House was the largest. It had started out as a series of three refurbished teahouses, but under Master Huo Zhi Guang’s guiding hand, its grounds had grown and swallowed up the smaller businesses round it until it contained almost a fifth of the entertainment district. Within its walls, the rumours had claimed, were series of lush interconnecting courtyards and expansive dining halls that rivalled some of the capital’s wealthiest residences and door fees than only the city’s wealthiest could afford.

Even at over forty years of age, Qinhui’s time was a prize that all lords and officials of Jin’s still capital jostled for. She was unrivalled in her talent in music, poetry and conversation. It was said that Huo Zhi Guang himself had been rejected three times before she had finally allowed him to purchase her contract from her previous House. Madame Bai Qinhui was a person Shun had never thought he could come face to face with.

A elbow to his side jolted Shun to his senses. Ah Chung leaned in close.“General, your mouth is open.” 

Shun snapped his mouth shut. The edge of Qinhui’s mouth twitched but she only inclined her head before clasping her hands in a low curtsey. “Your Highness, you and the General have had quite a trying morning. Why don’t you follow me and have a bite to eat before some rest?”

“Follow you?” Ming-song glanced at Shun and then at Xue-li. “Forgive me, Madame Bai, and I thank you for your hospitality so far. Even so, I find it hard to believe that you and your house would risk  — ”

“Your  _ highness _ .” Xue-li stepped forward with a scowl. “It was your own Ninth Brother who suggested Hibiscus House as a safe house. Qinhui- _ jie _ and her House have already hidden us for the whole time you and General Shun have been imprisoned. If they wanted to betray us, they could have done so far earlier than this.”

“The reward, I am sure, would be greater if they delivered my head to my uncle.”

Qinhui coughed. “Your highness,” she said, face pleasant and bland. “Master Huo is ever grateful that his friend, Prince Ming-yu, gave him the means to start this humble business. When Prince Ming-yu requested help for his brother, how could Master Huo refuse?”

“Master Huo is grateful for Ming-yu?” Ming-song raised an eyebrow. “My ninth brother simply lost three tea houses that had been part of his mother’s dowry in one night of drunken gambling to Master Huo.”

“Ah yes, but, even so, without the Ninth Prince’s loss, Master Huo and the rest of us could not have had our livelihoods. Therefore, we are grateful.”

Ming-song said nothing but turned away, jaw tight. Shun rubbed his hand across his forehead. “Your highness,” he said, “I gather that most of your men are elsewhere in this house? If Madame Bai chose this to be a trap, she could very well have had the palace soldiers meet us as we came out of the sewers.”

“Doesn’t a meal and a hot bath sound good, your Highness?” Ah Chung added, hands clasped in front of him in a slight bow. “Then we can talk about our next step.”

“Your  _ Highness _ ,” Xue-li said.

Ming-song’s shoulder rose and fell before he finally nodded. Qinhui’s lip twitched before she dipped into a curtsey and turned to lead the way.

They walked through through a series of empty rooms and up a flight of stairs. Shun frowned as he looked around. The faint sound of music was still there, indicating that there must have been some people in this pleasure house, but the rooms here were far more empty than he would have expected. 

“General?” 

Shun started. They had stopped at the entrance of a small reception hall. Qinhui stood at the doorway, watching him. The rest of the party had entered already. 

“My apologies,” Shun dipped his head. “I just expected that your House would have more staff?”

“Ah.” Qinhui’s expression remained simply polite. “There have been many calamities and misfortunes upon the outlying villages, General. Almost two thirds of my staff were called back to their ancestral homes in the early summer. It has made fulfilling our obligations this year very difficult indeed, but at the very least it made it easier to house the Prince’s men.”

Shun stiffened. This was a convenient piece of luck indeed.

“General?”

Shun dipped his head again. “My apologies, Madame,” he said and stepped into the reception hall. 

The rumours of Hibiscus House didn’t do the famed pleasure house justice. Even though the room was small, no expense had been spared over its decor. Scrolls hung on the walls with paintings of pale peach blossoms and bright red peonies. Curtains of almost transparent, fine red silk embroidered with gold thread hung at the windows. A breeze drifted in and brought with it the sweet summer scents of star jasmine and gardenia. 

The table was set for the four. Bowls of water scented with rose petals were at every seat for the washing of hands and refreshing of faces. There was steaming hot rice, a large tureen of soup and meat and vegetable dishes. Shun slid into his seat, between Xue-li and Ah Chung and washed his hands before wiping them dry. 

It was convenient enough that Hibiscus House had been already half empty before first their ill-fated attack on the Grand Duke. It was also convenient that Hibiscus House was built over one of the larger entrances to the sewers.

Lan had needed to study the layout of the cities of Jin for the civil service examinations. All the main entrances to the sewers, Lan had told Shun were all hidden along the main streets. It made sense:meant that if maintenance were needed on the sewers, they would be easily accessible without disturbing private residences.

“We were very fortunate that we were able to walk out of the sewers right into the grounds of Hibiscus House. Otherwise, we would have risked being recognised on the street.” Shun said.

Qinhui moved to the side of the room. She lifted a kettle off a small brazier and picked up a clay teapot with a pair of bamboo tongs before rinsing it with the hot water.“Oh of course. The larger drains into the sewers are much more effective at guaranteeing against flooding in heavy rain. Much like a herbalist’s house needs to be dry at all times, we cannot possibly have any of our guests get wet feet  — even in the heaviest of rains.”

“I see,” Shun said.

“Flooding also would damage our gardens  — damage that could take years to repair. Master Huo made sure when he expanded the Hibiscus House to guarantee against all of that.” Qinhui scooped tea into the teapot, filled it with hot water, poured out the first rinse of tea and filled it again. She tilted her head to the side as she regarded Shun. “Or, does the General truly think that Master Huo  _ intended _ to buy a place was built over the entrance to the sewers just so that there would be an escape route from the center of the capital, if one day His Highness required it?”

Shun’s face flushed. From Qinhui’s lips it sounded like a ridiculous notion. He picked up a piece of tofu and stuck it into his mouth.

Ming-song’s eyes slid over Shun before he set his bowl down and turned to Qinhui. “My brother and Huo Zi Guang are good friends. Almost inseparable, some say,” he said. “Even so, Master Huo has been indeed generous with his assistance. I wonder if there is any chance we could meet him to thank him personally?”

“Meet Master Huo?” Qinhui bowed. “My apologies, your highness. Master Huo and his Highness, the Ninth Prince, are good friends indeed. With such a good friend now having moved to Xu for his marriage, Master Huo has decided that it is a unique business opportunity. He is...currently also in Xu.” 

“Also in Xu? He is...with my brother then?”

Qinhui shook her head. “Oh no, course not. Master Huo is in Xu’s capital, Kejing. I understand that the Ninth Prince’s husband Prince Huiqing resides far closer to the Xu-Jin border. Would you like some tea, your Highness?”  

Xue-li coughed and also set down her bowl. “In any case, neither the Ninth Prince or Master Huo are here to thank or help. The Duan Wu celebrations are coming soon. It is very likely that the Grand Duke will use the Duan Wu festival to finalise his ascension to the throne.”

Ah Chun nodded. “Every year for the Duan Wu festivities, the King and the other officials of the court appear to take part in the festivities. The Grand Duke has said he has delayed his coronation out of respect for his nephew but a public appearance at this time will boost his support.”

“The festival is too obvious a target,” Ming-song said. “I am sure that my uncle will ensure that the event will be heavily guarded. There is no way that we can avoid being outnumbered.”

“Yes,” Xue-li said, “But it is also the only time that your uncle will be accessible. Once he is King, he will disappear into the palace. Are you suggesting that we should wait, your Highness, and then scale the walls of the royal palace?”

Shun swallowed his mouthful of food. The music that was drifting in from the open window had changed from flute to the distinct soft twang of qin. His fingers clenched around his chopsticks. The qin was Lan’s favourite instrument. 

“You know what Lan sacrificed to help us escape,” Shun said. “He is still a prisoner of the palace. If we do not attack during the Duan Wu festival, then he is as good as dead.”

“As good as dead? That doesn’t sound at all promising. Perhaps  — I could offer another suggestion?”   
  


All heads turned Qinhui’s direction. 

“You? Have a suggestion?” Ming-song’s voice was incredulous.

Qinhui dipped her head. “I know, your Highness, that I am merely a courtesan with no knowledge of court politics or battle strategy. However,” - she smiled - “isn’t it well known that during the Duan Wu festival, the royal family often commissions a public play to entertain the crowds? One that is attended by the King himself, before he gives his public address? This year the contract for the play has gone to my House.”

“Yes,” Ming-song said, “But I expect this play will be just as well-guarded as anywhere my uncle chooses to make a public appearance.”

A prickle ran down Shun’s spine. He looked up to meet Qinhui’s eyes. “Your house has been contracted to perform the play,” he said slowly. “But two thirds of the staff of your House are gone.”

Qinhui’s eyebrows arched up. “Yes. It is unfortunate, isn’t it? We strove for this hard-won contract and now we don’t have enough staff to perform it. A pity.”

Xue-li met Shun’s eyes across the table. “If there is a group of people that is able to enter that square unguarded it will be the actors that perform that play.” She turned to Ming-song with a smile. “Do you remember your Highness, how when we were children we would often pretend to put on a play for our elders?”

“...yes.” Ming-song pressed his fingers together. “You seem to have offered us another invaluable opportunity, Madame Bai. I am surprised that your house would give us such gifts while expecting nothing in return.”

Qinhui laughed. “Prince Ming-song,” she said, “I am just a humble courtesan who is hoping that I may be able to gain a tiny fraction of your favour.” She shrugged. “The contracts for performance at royal events are lucrative and the competition for them is steep. If your Highness were to win, and would consider our House favourably in the future…”

“Contracts? You are risking the lives of your House and all you want in return are contracts?”

Ah Chung coughed. “Your Highness,” he said, “Before we get ahead of ourselves  — ”  He looked at Shun, Xue-li and Ming-song in turn. “That is all very well, but how many can we sneak in as players? A handful of us will not be any match for the palace guards.”

“You are right but this is at least better than no opening at all.” Ming-song drummed his fingers against the table. “If only…”

“...if only…” Shun shook his head. “As it is written by the Master Strategist, the best strategy for battle is to subdue the enemy without battle at all. If only that could be achieved.”

“Without battle...” In corner of his eye, Shun saw Qinhui stiffen. By the time Shun turned to look at her though, Qin hui was smiling again.

“Madame Bai?” Shun said.

Qinhui dipped her head. “A fight without a fight seems interesting, General,” she said. “If there only was something: a piece of paper, a letter, perhaps to suggest that the Mandate of Heaven was not with the Grand Duke. Then, maybe, the support of his soldiers could be shifted?” 

“If only there was something.” Ming-song echoed. “That’s what we wanted when my uncle accused my Second Brother of treason. That’s what we wanted when the entire Cheng family were executed, and when one after another, my nephews died. He shook his head as he reached to pick up another piece of food. “If only there was such a thing indeed.”

Shun couldn’t take his eyes off Qinhui. She had pressed her lips together, expression unreadable, as she poured another cup of tea.  _ If only there was something.  _ Was there something that Bai Qinhui knew that the rest of them did not?

  
  


***

  
  


The scent of sandalwood incense hit Shun as soon as he stepped into the room that he had been pointed towards for the night. His mouth went dry. Although the room was lit by a single candle, he could not mistake the familiar characters of his father’s name carved onto a memorial tablet that sat on one wall. He remembered the promise he had made Lan - the promise he had made on his father’s grave.

“Shun?”

Shun blinked and shook his head. His mother stood in front of the memorial tablet, a bundle of smoking incense in hand. They stared at each other for a moment before Yuzheng’s face lip up. She shoved in incense sticks back into their holder and sprang towards him, arms outstretched. 

“Mother.” Shun tried to bow as a son should before his mother but Yuzheng pulled her arms around him before he could even so much as dip his head.

“Shun, my son, you are safe!”   
  


Shun nodded. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “...Mother? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? The city gates have been sealed shut ever since Lan and you came to rescue us. Where else would I be but here, with the Prince’s men?” 

The city gates have been sealed shut since the attack. Shun should not have been surprised at that news. Old Official Wu, who they had rescued with his mother, must be here too.

“Shun?” Yuzheng stepped back. Shun could feel her eyes looking up at him in the flickering candlelight. “Where is Lan? Isn’t he with you? I thought the two of you would be  —”

“Mother  —” Shun forced the word out past dry lips. He shook his head. “Lan, he  — ”

Yuzheng’s face fell. “Lan is still in danger, isn’t he? Is he imprisoned too?”

Shun’s mouth was too try to talk again. He nodded. How could he tell his mother what Lan had been condemned to? That his fate now was far worse than anyone else within the palace prisons?

“So when are you planning to rescue him?”

“...Mother?”

“Don’t gawk at me like that. If Lan is still in danger then you are going to go and find him, aren’t you? Bring him back home?”

Shun stepped away from his mother and turned to his father’s memorial plaque. “Mother,” he said, “You were talking to father tonight?”

“It has been more than thirty years since your father died,” Yuzheng said. “He would be proud of the man that you have grown up to become.” Her hand slid around Shun’s arm to give it a shake. “Now stop side-stepping my question. What are your plans to get Lan back to safety too?” 

Shun couldn’t take his eyes away from the shadows flickering across his father’s name. He remembered the promise Lan had forced out of him  — a promise to the father who’s memorial plaque he now stood in front of. 

There was no way that Shun could keep that promise. Even if it meant he had to cross the eleven planes of hell, Shun would go back to rescue Lan  _ but _  —  “There is something I need to confess, mother.” Shun swallowed against the tight lump in his throat. “When I last saw Lan, he made me promise that I would never see him again. He made me swear it on my father’s grave.”

Yuzheng looked up at Shun’s face and let out a long sigh. “I remember when Lan also told you that he didn’t want to marry you. Do you remember what I said then?”

“You asked me if I really believed him.”

“I remember how the two of you grew up together,” Yuzheng said. “I know you, Shun, and I know Lan. I know what he feels for you. Now, you are going to let such a promise stop you?’

Shun blinked rapidly against the burning sensation in his eyes. “No, of course not. Not when he’s still there and not  when — ” He shook his head. “Right after he made me swear to him, he gave me the key to our escape. But  — ” Shun turned his face back towards his father’s memorial plaque. “Mother, he made me swear, on my father’s grave.”

“Shun.” Yuzheng reached up and cupped her son’s cheeks in her hands. “Shun, look at me.” 

Shun turned back and his mother’s face swam into focus.

“Your father was an honorable man, Shun,” Yuzheng said. “He was a man who understood loyalty and he was a man who understood love. I think, if you don’t go back and find Lan, then he would be even more disappointed in you than you breaking some silly little promise you made in his name.”

“Mother…” Shun reached up for his mother’s hand but she shook her head and pulled away. 

Yuzheng plucked out three incense sticks and pressed them into Shun’s palm. “Since you are revoking a promise in your father’s name,” she said, “even though he would not disapprove, you had still better bow and make your apologies.” She nudged Shun’s arm. “Then you’d better ask for your father’s protection when you go and find Lan.”

Shun’s vision swam.. The smoke must be stinging his eyes again. Yu Zheng lit the incense sticks with a candle and Shun held them out before him as he bowed before his father’s memorial tablet.

_ Father, I cannot keep this promise _ .

He straightened. Under the light of the candles his father’s name seemed to glow.

_ Father help me. Help keep Lan safe. _

Shun straightened a third time and then bowed so low, his nose almost touched his knees.

_ Father, please keep Lan alive until I go find him. _

  
  
  


***

The morning Shun and Ming-song were to be transferred dawned strangely like any other for Lan. He rolled off his pallet, biting back a groan at the stab of pain between his legs. General Pan Guo and his men had taken hours to be satisfied but at least all of them had used oil and most of the bruises were in places that were easily covered by clothing. Lan could be grateful for small mercies.

It was commonplace for prisoners to be transferred between prisons at dawn. Lan had thought that by the midday meal he would have heard news of Shun and Ming-song’s escape. No news came forth. Lan looked down the rows of kitchen servers seated eating at the long tables. Eating as if this was any day and not the day where Shun’s freedom or sure death was decided. Lan’s own stomach churned and he pushed his food away.

One of the kitchen servants looked up. “Chen Lan  — are you unwell?” 

“Ah a...little,” Lan stammered.  “A summer cold perhaps. I just...don’t have much appetite today.”

A bowl of soup was slid against his elbow. “Have something to drink then,” another of the kitchen servants said. “You don’t want to faint from a sudden spasm of hunger in the afternoon.”

Lan took it with a quick nod. He managed to swallow three spoonfuls against his rising nausea. Rumours spread through the palace like wildfire. Surely, if Shun and Ming-song had escaped, some news would have trickled through by now. Perhaps there was nothing because there had been no rescue, and Shun and Ming-song were now in the heavily guarded city prisons. Or, perhaps, they had tried to escape and were now dead. 

_ No _  — Lan shook his head over the bowl of soup. He would not get trapped in those thoughts again. If Shun was dead and gone surely Lan would feel something beyond this empty ignorance.

In the early evening, when Chun Hua walked towards him as he was scrubbing dishes, Lan thought that finally she had come with  _ something. _ Instead, she pressed a bottle into his palm.

Lan’s heart dropped as she walked away. He reached out and managed to catch the edge of her sleeve. “This….?”

“It’s medicinal powder,” Chun Hua said. She looked Lan up and down. “For your wounds.”   
  
Lan’s cheeks flushed hot. So, he was not as good as hiding his limp as he had thought. 

Chun Hua continued, as if she hadn’t noticed that Lan’s cheeks were bright red. “You should try to keep that on you in a place that isn’t easily found.”

“Oh?” Lan tucked the bottle into a sleeve. “Are there rules in the kitchens against such things?” 

“No,” Chun Hua said. “But I have heard that the Grand Duke is set to return tomorrow morning,”   
  


Ice washed over Lan. The Grand Duke was returning tomorrow. Lan knew that a return to his previous service was inevitable but he didn’t think that it would be so soon. He sucked in a breath. He had to face the Grand Duke without even the knowledge of Shun’s safety to bolster him. “Thank you, Chun Hua,” he managed to breathe out.

Chun Hua laughed. “Why are you thanking me?” She bowed low with her hands clasped in front of her. “Goodbye, Cheng Lan. I hope the Heavens stay on your side.”

  
  
  
  
  


The Grand Duke arrived at the palace in the early hours of the morning with all the court officials in attendance to greet him. The riots in the Southern Villages had been averted quickly. With the promise of grain and silver from the royal store houses and the attention of their soon-to-be King himself, there had been no need for force to convince the people to go back to their normal lives. It was a start of a new era, some whispered, a sure sign that the Mandate of Heaven lay with the Grand Duke.

Lan, like the rest of the kitchen staff, had been prodded awake early in the morning to prepare a celebratory feast for the Grand Duke’s return. Therefore it was not a surprise when soldiers arrived after the morning meal to escort him back to the Grand Duke’s presence. Lan let them cross his wrists behind his back and tie them with a coarse thick rope that then looped around his neck to ensure that he could not move his arms at all. 

The surprise lay in the number of soldiers the Grand Duke had sent. Lan looked at the faces of the four guards and had to bite back a peal of hysterical laughter. Four soldiers, in full armour, for one little slave. Lan was unarmed and defenseless. The outer perimeter of the palace was a high, well-guarded wall and outside that, a deep moat ran. Even if he tried to run, where could he run too?

Led, with wrists bound behind him, he was kicked to his knees in front of the Grand Duke. Lan lowered his forehead on the ground of his own volition.

“Your slave greets the Grand Duke.” 

“Where are they?”    
  


Something fluttered deep in Lan’s chest. He stared down at the whorls in the grain of the wood flooring.  _ Could...could it _  — 

“Where are Wen Ming-song and Wei Shun?”

Lan’s eyes went wide for a brief moment. By the time the Grand Duke had grabbed a fistful of his hair to yank his head back up, his features were schooled completely blank. Inside, Lan wanted to burst. Shun and Ming-song were  _ free _ .

“Where are they?”

Even the jolt of pain through his scalp could not dampen Lan’s elation. 

“This slave has been working in the kitchens since you have left. How would this slave know of General Wei and Prince Ming-song’s whereabouts? Are they not in the prisons?”

Pain exploded on the side of Lan’s mouth and the blow whipped his head to one side. 

“What sort of fool do you think I am? Do you think that I did not know that you delivered Wei Shun and Ming-song some  _ zhongzi _ the night before they were due to be transferred out of the palace prisons?”

Lan looked up and let his eyes widen in the image of incredulous innocence. “But your Grace, you sent me to work in the kitchens! I thought that the laws of Jin dictated the proper treatment of prisoners! Or is feeding them now a crime?”

This time, the Grand Duke’s hand cracked so hard against Lan’s cheek that he tasted blood. Lan closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Fool. Perhaps Li Zhong will have looser lips.”

Lan’s head snapped up at that.  _ Li Zhong?  _ Li Zhong had no knowledge of where Shun was. Lan himself didn’t know where Shun was. Li Zhong was a good man. “Li Zhong knows nothing,  _ master _ .”

“You expression tells me otherwise. In any case, we have arrested Li Zhong and are questioning him now too.”

_ Questioning Li Zhong _ . Lan bit back a shiver. He knew very well what sort of methods were often used in questioning. How determined would the Grand Duke be to blame Li Zhong? 

“Captain Pan Guo tells me it was Li Zhong who authorised that you be allowed to take the place of the usual servant who brings food into the palace prisons  — and authorised that little delivery of yours  — or did you not think that I would know about that too?”

Bitterness rose in the back of his throat. Of course. Of course, Pan Guo would tell the Grand Duke everything as soon as he returned. 

“Li Zhong is innocent,” Lan said. “I  — I lied to Pan Guo about his authorisation of the food delivery.” 

  
“Did you now? That doesn’t explain how you managed to get to the prisons with a cart of food if you did not have Li Zhong’s permission.”

Lan swallowed. How much could he tell the Grand Duke to get Li Zhong released? Knowledge of the the hidden key would hardly be of any use in tracking Shun down now. But then, Lan would surely be asked how he came to have the key and then  —  _ Chun Hua _ . Did the Grand Duke also know about Chun Hua?

“Shun and I grew up together,” Lan said, finally. “I just wanted to see him one last time.”

The Grand Duke’s lip twitched. “You just wanted to see him one last time? You just wanted to see him one last time and now after you have seen him, he and my nephew have managed to escape?”

Lan looked up into the Grand Duke’s face and made sure that his eyes did not waver. “I’m just a convict-slave, master,” he said. “How could I possibly be involved in escape?”

“How could you possibly be involved indeed.” The Grand Duke’s smile was as cold as ice.  “If you will not talk in a reasonable fashion, Lan, I am afraid that I will have to think about other encouragements, just like we have had to with Li Zhong.” He pursed his lips. “You like music do you not, Lan? One of Jin’s most talented qin players, I remember you father saying.” The Grand Duke pressed his fingers together. His smile widened. “Shall we start interrogations then, by breaking each and every one of your fingers?”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. I'm on [tumblr](http://gixininja.tumblr.com). Please come and say hi :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, this chapter refers to suicide and attempted suicide.
> 
> Thanks to Avoliot and armaada for betaing!

The operatic performances during the Duan Wu Festival were held every year in the early morning on a specially erected wooden stage beside the Yangning river that flowed next to the Entertainment Quarters of Jing’s capital. Qinhui had the layout of the stage drawn on a long piece of linen that was hung on the wall of the practice room, with black crosses marking the spots of each of the players. A large red cross marked the spot usually reserved for the king with smaller crosses for the court officials and a square outline around the area designated for the common people.

“Of course the Grand Duke is going to seat himself in King’s seat,” Xue-li said. “We can have at least ten of us pretending to be actors and another twenty to assist with face paint and costume.”

“Tiny numbers compared to the city guard,” Shun said, “The best way forward, then, is a planned assassination? If we have enough time to hold the Grand Duke’s men back  —”

Ah Chung’s brows furrowed. “Even if we managed to kill the Grand Duke, we will still be quickly overwhelmed. Remember, we are trying to give the throne to the Fifth Prince, not to have all of us massacred.”

In many ways, an operatic performance was the perfect cover for an assassination. All the players would be in thick face paint that concealed recognisable facial features. The stage weapons could easily be replaced with real weaponry. Still, Shun wondered, what would happen even if the Grand Duke was killed? Lan would most likely be in the palace. They would also need to outmaneuver the city guards once the Grand Duke was dead. What was the point in killing the Grand Duke and then dying if he could not save Lan in the process?

“General Wei?” Qinhui’s voice cut through Shun’s thoughts. “This is where you need to throw a sword to the Prince Ming-song. Otherwise he will not be armed.”

Shun’s cheeks burned. “Ah yes, of course,” He turned, setting one long sleeve fluttering behind himself, and tossed one of the swords he held in the air. It spiralled into what promised to be a high arc but then   — Shun winced  — it wobbled in its trajectory and turned prematurely towards the ground. Ming-song dived forward and managed to catch it  — just before it hit the ground.

Qinhui pursed her lips. “You need to lift your knee and elbow higher, General. You are meant to be a skilled dancer, not a lumbering elephant.”

Shun clasped his hands together and managed a small bow. It had already been the tenth attempt that morning. He needed to concentrate. This was still the only way any of them would have access to the Grand Duke. If they could not pass as performers from the famed Hibiscus House, even this access would be denied them.

“Sirs,” Ru Zheng, the of younger rebels who had travelled with Lan and Shun when they came to the capital, ran up the stage at her cue, arms outstretched. A sword dangled at her hip. “I present to you evidence of a betrayal  — ”

Her words were cut off by Qinhui’s clap. “Shall we start at the beginning again?” Qinhui’s eyes bored through Shun’s as she fixed him with a stare. “We will never arrive at the next part of the play if General Wei cannot get his part right.”

A low groan cut through all of the players. Shun’s legs ached and beads of sweat trickled down his back. They had started practising since the early hours of the morning and yet had not advanced more than a third through the performance itself.

“Can we not just jump forward?” Xue-li said as she stepped forward from her part of the stage. “I am sure General Wei can practise in his own time.”

“It is not as if we are attacking at this moment,” Ah Chung said, “We could  — ”

“No.” Qinhui shook her head. “General Wei’s part is important. The sword throw is not only important to arm the Fifth Prince, it is the cue to signal the change of pace from the rest of the play,” she clapped her hands again. “From the beginning.”

“The sun has risen in a cloudless blue sky,” Shun began, lifting an arm up so the end of his sleeve moved in a semi-graceful arc. Shun had once thought that the long sleeves of the Official’s robes were bad, but his costume’s sleeves were designed to be so long they trailed and fluttered behind the actor as they moved. It was meant to appear graceful.

“It is a sign that  — ” Shun needed to turn but the end of one of his sleeves twisted around his ankles. He lurched forward, stumbling two or three steps before barreling straight into Xue-li’s arms.

“General!” Xue-li said.

“ _General_ ,” Qinhui pressed her lips into a thin line. “You are meant to be allies _not_ lovers _…_ ”

The heat in Shun’s cheeks spread down his neck and up his ears. “Ah,” He said as he tried to straighten himself. “A-apologies  — ” Shun was going to cut the longer parts of the sleeve off before he went on stage, tradition be damned. How was he supposed to fight if he could not even move?

“It’s the costume!” Ru Zheng giggled from the side of the designated stage area. “If he did this dressed in the same livery as the dragon boat racers, I’m sure he would do much better.”

“The General is acting as a _General_ not a dragon boat rower,” Qinhui said.

At the same time, Xue-li froze in mid spin. “Dragon boat rowers?”

“You know, the dragon boat races,” Ru Zheng said. “After the Duan Wu play there is always a dragon boat race along the river, and then we all throw sticky rice dumplings to the fish. Then we get to eat!”

“ _Dragon boat races_.” Xue-li said.

Shun caught Xue-li’s eyes. “The dragon boat races,” he said, “Isn’t their starting point very close to the stage?”

“Yes,” Qinhui said. “They always set off from behind the stage.”

Ah Chung walked towards the makeshift map of their performance area, hands clasped behind his back. “There are six racing boats across two heats and each need twenty two crew to row. Then there will be extra hands: those on the decks helping set up the boats.”

“At the moment, we can only sneak in thirty at the most.” Shun said.

“It is also not impossible to hide a good number of us beneath the water,” Xue-li added. “Of course, breathing straws would be easily spotted by the racing teams, but if all the dragon boat racers were actually _our_ people…”

Ming-song pushed himself up from where he had been sitting to the side of the room to stand next to Ah Chung. “If the dragon boat racers were actually our people,” he said. “The racing teams will have been allocated by now. How are we going to replace them with our people?  


“If only there was a way to get them together,” Xue-li said, “Get them together in a small space and then just prevent them from attending the races.”

“Get the racers together?” Qinhui said. “We are holding a dinner tonight in the Eastern Hall for all the dragon boat racers.”

“ _What_?”

Qinhui shrugged. “Master Huo thought to organise it for them as a way of boosting their morale before the races. A celebration before the races to wish each of them luck.”

“To wish them luck,” Shun said. He looked at Qinhui who raised one eyebrow in return. Shun swallowed. “That seems fortunate for us.”

Both of Qinhui’s eyebrows lifted. “Just a fortunate coincidence. There are more than a hundred participants in the dragon boat races. If they enjoy their night, they will tell their friends. Advertising through word of mouth is the most effective, after all.” She shrugged. “Besides, what makes you think I would allow you to do something that would compromise the reputation of our House?”

Ming-song snorted at those last words. “Compromise the reputation of your House? Madame, you are allowing us to take over one of your plays to stage a rebellion. What if we don’t succeed?”

Qinhui met Ming-song’s eyes in a cool and level stare. “As I have said, that is a matter of the Royal Contracts, your Highness. They are quite lucrative. I do hope that your men win.”

Ming-song back to the map. “We need to somehow replace all the dragon boat racers with our own,” he said. “And they are coming here for a dinner.”

“Don’t make it sound like that,” Xue-li said. “We’re not going to _poison_ them.”

At the same time, Shun said, “Magnolia bark.”

Five pairs of eyes swivelled to face him. “What?”

“Magnolia bark,” Shun said slowly. “Mixed with senna and licorice leaves. It’s an old treatment my mother used to make up for the other maids in the Cheng household if they had difficulties passing…solids,” Shun trailed off. “In any case, it takes a day or two to work but it’s highly effective and safe. In a big enough dose, it will ensure a thorough purge that lasts _days_. It might be enough to prevent them from attending the dragon races.”

“Ah,” Qinhui said, “So you _are_ suggesting we poison them?”  


“Shun said this is safe!” Xue-li said, “And besides, this may be the only way we will be able to smuggle a good number of the rest of us to the river. Is there magnolia bark here? In quantity?”  


“That old herbalist’s shop,” Ah Chung said. “We can reach it by the sewers again, can we not?”

Qinhui’s lips quirked. “Yes,” she said, “I am sure you will find much of that mixture there.”

“Well then,” Xue-li strode to the map of the entertainment area to stand in between Ming-song and Ah Chung. “In battle, it is not always the army that has the greatest numbers that wins. History has told us that. We cannot work with numbers but we can work with everything else.”

“Yes,” Shun said. “This will at least give the rest of us a chance. Let’s hope that  — ” He glanced at Qinhui before looking back at the map. “Let’s hope that our luck doesn’t run out.”

  


***

The prison doors squealed as they swung open. Pain shot through Lan’s shoulder as it made contact with the packed dirt floor. His hands throbbed with a dull and steady ache. Lan opened his eyes and stared down at his fingers: swollen, mangled, useless. Even if his fingers were not broken, he was going to die in this prison. He would never play the qin again. What use would his hands be to him in his last days anyway?

“Cheng Lan.”

Lan looked up. “Kitchen Master Li?”

Curled in the corner of the prison cell, Li Zhong was barely recognisable. His hair tumbled out of his topknot and was matted with dried blood against one side of his face. His bottom lip was swollen and his nose was twisted. The other side side of his face was a dark, ugly bruise.

Lan tried to push himself off the floor and hissed as pain lanced through his fingers. He crawled forward, trying to rest the weight of his body on his forearms rather than on his hands.

Li Zhong’s lips twisted in what might have been a smile. “I was wondering if I would see you again.”

Lan’s fingers were too swollen to clasp together but he managed to push his wrists together and stretch his arms forward in a low kow tow. “Sir  — I am sorry for dragging you into this mess.”

Li Zhong snorted. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

Lan looked up. “S...sir?”

“I have been serving in the kitchens for forty years.” Li Zhong groaned and pushed himself forward so his eyes met Lan’s. “Forty years. I may not have the education of the scholar class, but I have seen much of the twists and turns of the court. I remember the old king before King Ming-wang, and even the king before him. Do you think that I did not know what the consequences of my decision would be if I helped you to see Wei Shun?”

The words out of Li Zhong’s mouth made sense but Lan could not connect them together. Li Zhong knew the consequences? Li Zhong had known exactly why Lan wanted to see Shun?

“You wanted to see Wei Shun to give him something he liked to eat before he died.” Li Zhong snorted. “I am not that naive. I know very well that for years, the court has been a chess game between the Fifth Prince and the Grand Duke.”

Lan’s mouth moved but no words formed. Li Zhong knew about the Fifth Prince and the Grand Duke. Did he know about the Ninth Prince too? Did he know about Chun Hua  — and had she also been arrested?

“I know that Chun Hua had spoken to you on occasion, even though she works in a different section of the kitchens,” Li Zhong continued. “And fortuitously, it seems that she left the palace the night before the Grand Duke’s return.”

Relief rushed through Lan. A maid was usually not permitted to leave the palace without special permission but, somehow, Chun Hua had managed it. He pushed himself off the floor until he was half sitting up. “At least Chun Hua is safe,” he said. “She has probably already left the capital.”

“The city gates have been sealed shut since the first rebel attack.” Li Zhong said, “Patrols across the city have increased. Chun Hua will just need to keep her head down and try not to be noticed, unless she has a reason otherwise.”

A tingle crept down Lan’s back. He remembered the letters that Chun Hua had shown him: clear evidence of the Grand Duke’s guilt. Even if she could somehow get them to Ming-song, though, how would he be able to present such evidence before the court without being arrested? If Ming-song got hold of the letters, would Shun still be with him and be dragged into this mess again?

“In any case, now that you are here, Cheng Lan, I have something for you.” Lan looked up. Li Zhong reached into one sleeve and pulled out a small white bottle stoppered with a wad of red paper. He placed it on the packed dirt floor between them.

Lan looked at the bottle, then at Li Zhong’s face, then back at the bottle. “This…?”

Li Zhong laughed, low and soft. “ _This_ is a choice, Cheng Lan.”

“A choice?”  


“This is the sort of thing we use for rats in kitchens. Take a big enough dose and it kills a human too. I am fortunate they did not find this on me when they first searched me.”

“This is poison?”

“Poison and choices…” “Sometimes they are very similar things.” He leaned his head back against the prison’s stone wall. “I have already taken my dose, but there might be enough left over to send you off too.”

“You...you have already taken it?”

“Of course, this is not a poison that works immediately  — why do you have that expression on your face?” Li Zhong’s eyebrows furrowed. “I know what happens when the Grand Duke suspects you of treason. I cannot save myself but I can save my family from the sentence of the Nine Exterminations.” He shrugged. “Any traitor needs to be convicted either by trial or confession before they are sentenced. If I died here, I would simply be a prisoner who died in custody.”

Lan closed his mouth. “You  — you planned this?”

Li Zhong laughed again. “As I said, I am not stupid, Cheng Lan. Everyone in the palace knows that you and General Wei were lovers. How could your visit to him just be a simple goodbye? _But  — ”_ Li Zhong’s eyes met Lan’s. “My son served with General Wei in the war.”

“Yes.” Lan said.

“My son, who came home from war early, is now married and has a son of his own. General Wei is a good man. I have no regrets.” His lip twitched. “Many good men have died in the war.”

Lan was about to open his mouth to reply but all words were cut off when Li Zhong groaned. His eyes rolled back and his body went stiff and still.

“Li  — ”

Li Zhong’s teeth clamped together as his whole body shook. Lan reached out and then jerked his hand back. He knew he should have been doing something  — pulling Li Zhong to lie down, or perhaps tilting his head back  — but how to do that if Lan couldn’t even use his hands? Then as quickly as it had all started, Li Zhong’s body went slack. His head lolled to the side, tongue fat and swollen hanging out of his mouth. Lan could see the impression of teeth marks against the tongue. Blood oozed out of them and ran down his cheek.

“Li...Zhong…?”

There was no response. Slowly, Lan raised his palm to Li Zhong’s nostrils and jerked them back. No breath. Li Zhong’s eyes stared at nothing, his pupils dark and blown. He was dead.

 _Poison...a choice_.

Lan turned his eyes to the bottle on the ground. Li Zhong was right. Now that he was in this prison, there was only one path forward. If Lan was as good as dead, why not die now  — by his own choice, his own hand? Why wait and give the Grand Duke the satisfaction of having a hand in his death?

Lan leaned forward and fumbled for the bottle. His fingers were too useless to grasp anything but he managed to secure it between his wrists. He leaned forward to pull the stopper out with his teeth — but his chin caught the bottle’s outer lip. The bottle tipped forward and clattered to the ground. The little hope Lan still had spilled with the dark liquid into the dirt.

Lan lurched forward towards stain on the ground. It had already soaked into the packed dirt floor. Even if Lan tried to lick the ground he wouldn’t be able to swallow it. Gone, his choice was gone. He was not yet allowed to die.

Lan felt hollow, like someone had taken a spoon and carved out the essence of him. He would not sob, he would not cry. There would be no point. Death would come for him in due time anyway. Only now, he had to wait. How long would the Grand Duke want to drag this out…?

Lan cradled his ruined hands to himself and bowed one last time in front of Li Zhong’s body. Perhaps Li Zhong could help Lan beg the Heavens for a swift death.

  


***

The night before the celebrations of the Duan Wu festival was warm and clear. The sweet fragrance of the gardens and the soft hum of cicadas wafted through every open hallway. It wassurreal, Shun thought, that by the next evening, all of them could be very well dead.

As Shun walked through an open courtyard, he froze. There in front of him was the silhouette of Prince Ming-song, hands clasped behind his back and head tilted back as he gazed up at the bright full moon.

Shun’s hands clenched by his sides. There was a question that needed to be asked before tomorrow’s play. He may as well ask it now.

“Your Highness.” Shun bowed.

Ming-song turned towards Shun. In the moonlight his face gave off an almost silver glow. He inclined his head. “Hello, General. It is a pleasant evening, is it not?”

“Yes, your Highness.” Shun straightened and followed Ming-song’s gaze up at the bright full moon. Would Lan also be able to look up at the night sky tonight and see the same moon, hung amongst the stars? “Your Highness, I was hoping to ask a request  — ”

The corner of Ming-song’s lip curled. “You want a reward, General,” he said. “I was wondering when you would ask.”

Shun started. “Your highness? It is not uncommon for such requests to be made after a significant service  — ”

“A significant service.” Ming-song arched an eyebrow.  “What sort of reward do you want, General? Gold? A higher title? All the men who are with us will risk their lives tomorrow. “ His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “All the men with us will fight tomorrow and risk their lives  — and none of them have a throne promised to them.” I want to give them all a reward but  — ” Ming-song shook his head. “Even if we win, I will still be limited to what the royal coffers will allow. We have already fought a long and draining war with the North and now are diving into our own civil conflict.”

“No, I don’t want any of those things. I don’t need riches or a title. Once this is over I would be happy to be either part of or away from the royal court as your Highness pleases.”

“Oh? Not gold or honors? What do you want then, General?”

“Lan.” Shun said. “I want you to pardon Cheng Lan and grant him his freedom.”

This time, Ming-song spun around to face Shun. His brows furrowed. “Cheng....Lan?”

Shun clasped his hands behind his back. His nails dug into his palm. “Under the law, Cheng Lan is a convict-slave. A King could grant him a pardon.”

“Cheng Lan.” Ming-song rocked back on his heels and turned his gaze again up towards the sky. “Cheng Lan who, alongside his father, was convicted as a traitor to the throne and narrowly escaped the fate of the rest of his family.”

“Lord Cheng was _not_ a traitor.” The words flew out of Shun’s mouth before he could even think. They hung between the two of them in the night air before Shun remembered to add a quick, “your Highness.”

This time, both Ming-song’s eyebrows went up. “Not a traitor?”

Shun swallowed. “I know that you would have been a child when Lord Cheng served the royal court, but I grew up in his household. Lord Cheng was the most loyal man to the kingdom that I knew.”

“Ah  — “ Ming-song shook his head. “I was eighteen when Lord Cheng was convicted. I remember him. He was convicted as a traitor the same year my Second Brother was also convicted as a traitor and executed. I had only started to know the officials of the court like Lord Cheng, but I do know that my Second Brother was the most loyal man to the kingdom that _I_ knew. And yet my uncle convicted him of treason too.”

Shun stared at Ming-song. Did the Fifth Prince’s words mean what he thought they did?

“So you want freedom for Cheng Lan.” Ming-song turned towards Shun again and laughed, low and soft. “You know General, usually when someone someone asks for a reward for service, it is usually something that they ask for themselves.” He clasped his hands behind his head. “And they usually ask for something that is far simpler than granting freedom to a convicted traitor.”

“If it were not for Lan the two of us would not be standing here today.”

“Indeed, General. Lan did give us those keys.” Ming-song let out a soft huff of a breath. “Of course, a King could very well grant Lan a pardon. However, a pardon is just the removal of a punishment, General. It does not take away the original conviction.”

Shun heaved out a long breath. “Opening up an investigation into the Cheng family’s case will clear their whole family’s name but that will take time. And Lan deserves his freedom.”

“As you say.” Ming-song laughed again. “Very well General, If we do not die in tomorrow, I promise you, I will grant Lan his freedom.” He lowered his arms and shook both of them out. “And once I investigate and clear my Second Brother’s name, I promise that I will clear Lord Cheng’s name too. Are you satisfied?”

Shun should have been satisfied. Once they presented the evidence to the full court and gained their support, once they rescued Lan, Lan would be guaranteed his freedom. He no longer had to wear his hair in that hateful slave’s braid, to lower his eyes or kneel to Shun in public. That Ming-song was willing to agree to that _and_ to clear his Lan’s family’s name should have been enough. But  —

“I thank you, your Highness.” Shun clasped his hands together in front of himself and bowed low, “But  — ”

“But? Ahh  — now you want to ask something for yourself?” Ming-song waved a hand. “There is no need for such formalities amongst us, General. As I said, I have been anticipating your request. What do you want?”  


“Your Highness.” Shun did not rise out of his bow. “Lan was the highest scoring candidate in the civil service examinations. He has extensive experience in diplomacy and helped build the Xu-Rong-Jin alliance. If you agree with me that Lord Cheng was a good man, Lan would also be an excellent man to serve your court in his father’s place.”

  
A prickle ran down Shun’s spine. When he peered up it was to see Ming-song staring at him. Shun ducked his head back down. “As of course, it pleases your Highness.”

“You ask for Cheng Lan’s freedom, you ask for his family’s name to be cleared, and now you ask for a position for him in court.” Ming-song pursed his lips. “Do you want to ask for a marriage decree as well, so that the two of you will be wed?”

What  — a marriage decree  —? “ _No._ Your Highness.”

“What? You do not wish to marry Chen Lan?”

Shun bent his back lower. “No, it is not that” he said, again. “If we win, a marriage needs to be something Lan also wants. What is the use of giving him back his freedom if he is bound again into a forced marriage?”

“I see. General, do you really think so little of me?”

“Your...Highness?” Shun straightened to find Ming-song regarding him with this head tilted to one side.

“I am young, General Wei,” Ming-song said. “I do not have the experience of my uncle. Many of the older talents like Lord Cheng who were loyal to my father have been rooted out ofthe court. I am going to need new men, men who are intelligent and willing to serve.

I was a child when Cheng Lan sat his civil service examinations. I was not very focussed in my studies and my tutor took me to witness the examinations. I remember Cheng Lan. I remember that he was a man with a vision for this kingdom.”

“Your highness?”

Ming-song laughed. “All I can say is this, General: I know that Cheng Lan was more than able when he served the court, and that the Cheng family has served the court for many generations.”

Shun clasped his hands together and bowed again. “Thank you, your Highness.”

Ming-song clasped his hand on Shun’s shoulder. “Don’t thank me too early, General,” he said. “We are still far from me being able to make these promises to you. Let’s first make sure that we survive tomorrow, yes?”

Shun nodded. He looked up at the bright wide moon and took in a breath of the fragrant summer night air. “Yes,” he said.

***

“I have set your execution date.”

From where he lay, slumped against the stone cell wall, Lan opened the eye that was not swollen closed. He had not even heard the cell door open or the Grand Duke enter.  

It had been clear that the palace interrogators had been instructed to question Lan but not kill him. Lan’s fingers were a throbbing mangled mess but the rest of his body was strangely intact.  Even the beatings would stop as soon as he lost consciousness. What was the _point_ Lan did not know, of keeping him alive? Shun had escaped and even if he were subject to the torture of a thousand cuts, Lan would not given the Grand Duke any possibility of locating him.

Lan’s tongue was thick and his mouth paper dry but he managed to lick his lips and force them open. “Ah,” he said, “I am surprised that you are letting me die so soon. I didn’t think you would let me go until I told what you want to know.” Lan let his eye drift close again. There was no point in grovelling now. Shun was safe, that was all that mattered.

The Grand Duke could do what he wanted with Lan.

“Hn,” The Grand Duke’s shadow loomed over him. “You think you are highly intelligent, don’t you? Only a few weeks ago you were crawling at my feet.”

Lan waved an arm in the space between them. “Forgive me for not prostrating myself _master,_ ” he said, “But I think if I change position, I might just fall flat on my face and not be able to get up.”

Lan couldn’t suppress the wince as his hair was tugged hard, and his neck bent back until he was forced to look at the Grand Duke’s face.

“I could have executed you with the rest of your family, little Lan,” he said. “Do you know why I kept you alive?”

“You enjoyed the presence of my company?”

Pain lanced through the back of Lan’s skull as the Grand Duke slammed it into the wall behind him.

“I know very well that it was you who spoke to your father and set him investigating me,” the Grand Duke said. “The ever respected Lord Cheng. If he had suspicions, the royal court would have them too. It was good  — to have you by my side as a reminder of why it doesn’t pay to think too hard.”

Bile rose up in the back of Lan’s throat. He swallowed against the rising nausea. All those things had passed. Nothing could bring his family back. All that mattered was that Shun was safe. Yuzheng was safe. They were both in all likelihood out of the capital by now. All Lan had to do was to wait, and soon he would be dead too.

“You were such a good prop.” The Grand Duke straightened. “I have to say, Cheng Lan, I am glad I kept you alive. You are going to continue to be useful in distracting the few forces my nephew and General Wei have gathered.”

_What  — Shun?_

“ _No_ ,” Lan used his elbows to push himself up to something closer to a sitting position. “No. There is no way. Shun  — Shun is not coming back. There is no way you can draw Shun out.”

“Is that what you think?” The Grand Duke cocked his head to the side. “You must think me an utter idiot, Cheng Lan. The gates of the city, of course, have been sealed since the rebels’ original attack. You think that I would allow _my_ attackers an escape route out of the city? They are penned in, trapped.” He smirked. “In all likelihood, they will attack the Duan Wu festivities.”

 _No_. But Shun had promised. Shun had looked at Lan and sworn on his father’s grave that he would never see Lan again. “Attack again? Don’t forget I betrayed those rebels. Why would they care about me?”

“Pan Guo’s men tell me that Prince Ming-song and General Wei Shun had keys to their prison cart. How curious that they would have such a thing, the day after you visited them with big, fat, leaf wrapped _zhongzi_ in your cart  — ”

“ —I told you, I am just a convict slave, how would I even have access to those keys  — ”

“  — I would be disappointed if they didn’t attack during the Duan Wu Festivities. It is the only public event in the near future.. Of course, I will make sure we increase the guards at the center and the perimeters accordingly.”

Lan collapsed back against the stone wall of the prison cell. The King and the whole court always came to watch the Duan Wu festivities. Of course it would be a good opportunity to attack. Xue-li and Prince Ming-song could not fail to recognise that. But  —   _no._ Ming-song and Xue-li could do as they liked, but Shun could not possibly be there.

Perhaps, though, even if Shun was still in the city, he would remember his promise and just stay away. Shun’s mother  — Yuzheng was safe. There was no reason for Shun to still be involved in all of this, and _Shun had made a promise on his own father’s grave  —_

“Of course, even with the added guards, it is difficult to say how a desperate man will fight. I am sure my nephew will be desperate and so, I thought I could use you as an added guarantee.”

Lan’s head jerked around as he stared up at the Grand Duke’s face. “An added guarantee?” He forced out a snort even as his stomach began to churn again. “You think I am so valuable?”

“The executions are carried out in the Main Square, rather than in the Entertainment Quarters where the Duan Wu celebrations will be held. The rebel group is small and will be even smaller divided. Even if not, the barest of hesitation will give my forces more advantage. I wonder how easily Shun would be able to focus on the attack during the Duan Wu festivities if he knew you were elsewhere, about to be executed?”

“You are assumingShun is even still with the rebels. I do not think that he will have any desire to be involved  — ”

“I know the kind of soft weakness that my nephew has. You helped him to escape and he will have difficulty ignoring your imminent death. As for General Wei, do you think that he will truly just allow you to die?”

“It will not work,” Lan said, “Neither of them will care enough for your plan of distraction to work.”

“Oh, I think you are mistaken there.” The Grand Duke’s teeth glinted in the light. “My only question is, in the end, whose head they will choose to have? Mine  — or yours?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [tumblr! Please come and say hi. :)](http://gixininja.tumblr.com)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for Avoliot for betaing and armaada for the suggestions!

The play was to start mid-morning, so preparations began before dawn. Not all the rebels would be easily recognisable but Shun, Ming-song and Xue-li needed to be disguised.

Shun had his face painted red with black whorls across his cheeks as befitted the benevolent nature of his character. Xue-li’s face was painted a matching blue but Prince Ming-song was given a purple mask: much easier to remove when the time came. Qinhui had eventually allowed Shun’s long-sleeved robe to be modified to a practical green jacket: the sort that any soldier would wear.  

In the darkness of the early morning, the area around the stage was still empty. This was the time to make sure all their real weapons were already safely hidden behind the painted screens on stage before any soldiers arrived. Then, when it was time to do a proper inspection, all the soldiers would see would be flimsy and blunt stage weapons.

The sun was just starting to peek over the rooftops as Shun walked into the square with a bundle of spears in his arms. The rays of the dawn painted the walls and stone floor of the square around him in an orange glow. Shun’s eyes caught the sight of three posters pasted against one of the walls  — and froze. All three posters announced the same thing in bold, black calligraphy. An execution would be held after midday in the Main Square to rid the kingdom of a traitor to the throne. 

On the bottom was written the prisoner’s name: Cheng Lan.

Shun dropped the spears he was holding.

“General Wei.” From behind him, Xue-li’s hand closed around Shun’s wrist.

Shun tore his eyes from the poster. “Did you know?” he asked. “Did you know that Lan’s execution date had been set?”

“General  _ Wei _ ,” Xue-li glanced around them. Shun swallowed. He had forgotten for a moment where he was, out in the open. The square was thankfully still empty.

“When were you going to tell me?” he hissed.

“One of the younger courtesans from Hibiscus House only saw the posters two days ago,” Xue-li said. “We...even if we had told you, there wasn’t enough time to divide our forces and find Lan.”

“ _ What _ ?” Shun jerked his hand out of Xue-li’s grasp. “You are going to let him die then? After what  — ” He swallowed again, throat suddenly tight. “After what he has done for you all? For the Fifth Prince?” Shun bent down. He picked up one of the spears with the point directed at Xue-li. “You can continue with this little play of yours. I will find Lan.”

Xue-li held up her hands. Shun scowled and turned on his heel.

“General Wei.” Ah Chung walked into Shun’s line of vision.

“Don’t try to stop me,” Shun said.

“What are you going to do, General Wei?” Xue-li said from behind him. Shun refused to turn around. “You can go to the central square now, sword in hand, face painted like an actor. The execution is set for midday. In all likelihood, there will be no one there. Are you just going to station yourself there, alone, waiting for midday? Then what will you do? Are you going to fight a whole company of armed guards by yourself?” 

Shun gritted his teeth. “I will fight them,” he said, “I am going to rescue Lan.”

“You are going to  — Wei  _ Shun _ ,” Xue-li said, “I know you are just one man, but your role in this play of ours is central. It is too late to have someone else replace you. If you go now, our chance of winning is gone.”

This time Shun whirled around. “What do I care,” he said, teeth bared, “about this little rebellion if Lan dies? Lan didn’t want any part of this. He just wanted to go back to Yangnan. The only reason he was here was because of me  — I needed to save my mother. Now I need to save Lan.”

Xue-li met Shun’s glare evenly. “And so you rescue Lan,” she said, “What then? If we do not defeat the Grand Duke today, in all likelihood the city gates will remain sealed. Even if they are not, there will be wanted posters with both your faces on them across the city tomorrow! How will you escape then, how will you find peace? The two of you will be hunted across the city, General Wei. How long will it be before you die?”

If Xue-li had stepped forward and punched Shun in the stomach, he would not have felt any more winded that he did now. He stood, facing Xue-li, hands clenched on the shaft of his spear. “What is the point of winning this battle if we let Lan die?”

“No, General Wei.” This time it was Ah Chung’s voice who came from behind Shun. “The execution is set for midday. The play will end well before then. If we win, we will have time to find Lan.”

“Will we?” Shun shook his head. “The timing  — it is too tight. What if the battle takes longer than we expect?”

“That is why,” Xue-li said, “Ah Chung will lead a group of ten to scout mid-morning. Perhaps we can glean some idea of when the execution party will arrive and see if there are any soldiers who are already stationed there. To rescue Lan we need to know how well he is guarded, where exactly he will be and what type of execution the Grand Duke has planned.” 

“It is likely that the Grand Duke will bring most of the royal guard here,” Ah Chung said. “There might only be a few token guards around Lan  — especially if he is bound. It would then be easy to rescue him with a small group.”

“But we need to find out,” Xue-li said. “We risk everything by plunging headlong into a unplanned rescue.”

Shun’s shoulders sagged. They were right. Of course they were right. If he just left now with a sword in his hand and no plan he could very well be sentencing both himself and Lan to death.

“Ah Chung.” Shun reached forward and grasped Ah Chung’s hand. “You will come back and tell me any information you find?”

“Of course.” Ah Chung clasped his hands in front of himself and bowed. “If the group of guards around Cheng Lan is small enough, we can attack by ourselves.” He offered Shun a smile. “Perhaps, by the time you have won your skirmish, I will also have Lan safe and sound.”

Shun tried to return the smile but his face refused to obey. He bent down instead and picked up the spears. “I hope so too,” he said. He turned his gaze heavenward. Every time they had succeeded so far the skies had been heavy with cloud or the air full of mist. It was as if the dragons, kings of the clouds and water, were on their side.

The sky above them today, though, was bright and clear. There was not one single cloud.

****

The dawn sky faded from burnt orange into pale blue. Slowly, the empty square in front of them started to fill: first with commoners in their light cotton hanfu and then the city guard marched in, taking their places as expected around the perimeter.

Shun glanced up at the rooftops surrounding the square. If he didn’t know where to look, their archers would be impossible to spot. As it was, they were the barest of black spots against the black sloping eaves. The soldiers, where they stood, made perfect targets.

The tradition of having a play during the Duan Wu festival had started in order to give the dragon boat racers time to set up before the race. Behind the stage, there was a flurry of activity as men and women readied the large rowing boats along the river banks. It was a very good thing that the boats always remained on the river banks until the just before the race was to be started. If the boats were to be pushed onto the water now, they would surely sink. The long dragon boats were perfect hiding spots for the remainder of their weapons.

Shun caught the eye of one of the rebels who gave him a slight nod. Shun inclined his head and turned his attention back to the crowds.

A number of court officials had already taken their places in front of the stage, but very first row,  where low carved ebony seats had been laid out for the for the Grand Duke and his party, was empty. Shun glanced up at the sun that was now well above the rooftops. Where was the Grand Duke? Lan’s time was ticking away. 

Xue-li fingers brushed against Shun’s wrist. Shun turned towards her as she came up to stand beside him. “Ah Chung says that the Main Square is empty. They’re most likely going arrive just before the execution.”

Shun swallowed and nodded. He looked up at the sky again. Midday, then. All of this needed to end before midday.

The faint thump of drum beats made everyone on stage stand suddenly still. The sound filled the air, getting steadily louder. Then, a sedan chair covered in panels of dark blue silk appeared at the corner of the square. Shun’s eyes narrowed. The sedan chair was flanked by two rows of palace eunuchs and two rows of soldiers. They all wore the gilded helmets that signified the palace guard with General Pan Guo heading the procession. The crowd parted the party entered the square.

The sedan chair stopped at the very front of the stage and was lowered to the ground. The Grand Duke stepped out. A large silver dragon was embroidered across the front of his black silk outer robe and his topknot was held by a silver guan hairpiece that shone bright in the shone. Shun counted five dragon claws: a dragon that could only be worn by a King. 

The Grand Duke lifted a hand to wave to the crowd before he walked to his seating area. Pan Guo left the front of the retinue with a second soldier to stand by the Grand Duke’s side.

The head eunuch held up his hand and all the eunuchs said in unison, “All hail the Grand Duke.” 

From the first tier officials to the tattered commoners pushing against the back of the crowd, all went down on their knees. On stage, the actors filed into one line and also knelt. 

“We greet the Grand Duke.”

“Ah  — please, please rise.” The Grand Duke’s teeth shone in the sunlight. He waved a hand. “This is a time for all of us to celebrate. We remember the loyalty of our ancestors and the blessings of the year so far. Let us start the celebrations!”

Shun stood. His fingers curled into fists at his side until Xue-li nudged his shoulder. She fixed him with a pointed look as she walked past.

“Your Grace,” Xue-li said with a low bow. “We humbly introduce ourselves as players of the Hibiscus House. I hope you enjoy the play we have put together for you today.”

“Players from Hibiscus House? I have heard great things about your talent.” The Grand Duke leaned forward.  “You may begin.” 

As a row, all of the actors bowed again. Shun glanced at the Grand Duke’s seat from the stage. It was within range of a thrown knife or even a sword. But with General Pan Guo standing on one side and another of the palace guards on the other it would be just as easy as an attempt like that to be deflected. He was going to have to wait for another opportunity.

The actors shuffled to their respective places on the stage. Xue-li stepped up first, waving her long sleeves with a grace that Shun could never hope to imitate.

“There was once an empire,” Xue-li said, “that stretches as far as eye can see. It was ruled by a wise emperor and defended by two Generals... ”

The play itself was not difficult, although Shun had raised his eyebrows when he first heard the story. Two generals, joining forces to stop a Regent on the cusp of usurping the throne? Was such a plot too obvious?

Qinhui had shrugged. “It is based on history  — on the life of Emperor Bai of the last dynasty,” she said. “Besides, such a story allows for you to carry weapons, and it will give cues for you to even jump off stage, and then  —  attack before any of the guards realise it.”

That was a point Shun could not argue with. “Is it a well-known play?”

Qinhui’s smile had turned sharp at that question. “Oh no, this play was written especially for this year’s Duan Wu festivities. Don’t you think our House’s writers are talented, General?”

On the stage, Xue-lie bowed and motioned to where Shun and Ming-song stood with a fluttering of her sleeves. Shun and Ming-song took a step forward each and twirled around before bowing to each other and stepping back. It was time for the next set of actors to come forward.

“The emperor had a beloved wife and, importantly, a bright young heir. He was still a child, but full of potential.” One of the rebels came out onto stage, a doll held in her arms to represent the child prince. “But one day, disaster struck.”

There was a clash of cymbals behind them and a rumbling of drums. Actors, faces painted a simple black, filled the stage. They stretched out three pieces of wide blue cloth across the back of it, waving them to imitating waves.

“The emperor was on his ship, sailing with his empress across the great Long River, when he was struck by a storm and his ship was lost  — ”

One of the actors holding the blue cloth walked past Shun. He felt a tug at his side as his blunt stage-sword was tugged away. The hilts of two other swords were pressed into each of his hands. Across the stage, Xue-li gave Shun an barely-discernible nod. She had received her weapon too. 

“  — it left his heir under the care of his older brother who had been passed over for the throne many years before.”

A high pitched singing note, almost akin to wailing, filled the air. Shun watched the Grand Duke lean forward. His expression was unreadable. It was well known that King Ming-song’s father had died in a carriage accident with his Queen, leaving the then-four year old Ming-wang in the care of the Grand Duke. 

“A mere untested child as King? The old King’s brother thought that now would be his chance. A child could easily take ill, or have an accident, and then the throne would be  _ his _ . But his plan reached the ears of two loyal generals to the throne.”

Shun bowed and turned as he had rehearsed and threw one of his weapons across to Ming-song. This was the cue for Ru Zheng to come up the steps announcing the news of the Regent’s betrayal. 

The girl who came up the steps also wore the bright blue face paint of Ru Zheng's character, but she was shorter and more slight than Shun remembered. He shook his head. It must have been the costume and face paint.

“Generals,” the girl said as she sank to her knees, holding a bundle of paper in her outstretched hands. “My name is Chun Hua and I was a maid serving in the royal palace. These are letters that were found in High Eunuch Tao’s quarters before he died. The letters are penned by the Grand Duke’s hands and stamped with the Grand Duke’s seal: ordering the deaths of King Ming-wang’s sons and the forgery of the letter that condemned the Second Prince, Ming-an”

Those were  _ not  _ Ru Zheng’s next lines. Shun froze and his eyes met Ming-song’s. High Eunuch Tao was not a fictional character in a play. High Eunuch Tao had been the principal eunuch serving King Ming-wang. In Chun Hua’s outstretched hands was not the empty envelope Ru Zheng had used in their rehearsals. It was a thick bundle of letters. Even from where he stood, Shun could recognise the red characters of the Grand Duke’s own seal.

Shun’s stepped forward, but Ming-song was faster, plucking the letters from Chun Hua’s hands. Below them, the crowd and even the Grand Duke remained motionless, as if they had not truly heard Chun Hua’s words. It took a mere moment for Ming-song to scan the first letter and then he opened his mouth:   
  


_ To the esteemed High Eunuch Tao, _

_ Ming-wang continues to be a fool who is as easily distractible from his plans as a child. If the dynasty continues in his line, surely we will be doomed. As we have rid ourselves of the Second Prince, we need to rid the kingdom of him but — while he is still listening to our advice, it would be easier to first ensure the death of his firstborn son. _

_ Signed by the seal of the Grand Duke. _

The crowd was silent.

Ming-song pulled off his mask. “My brother King Ming-wang had many sons by his consorts, but none of them survived beyond their infancy,” Ming-song pointed to the Grand Duke. He held up the letter so that the red seal was for all to see. “This is clear evidence of my uncle’s crimes and his guilt before the throne.”

“Nephew.” The Grand Duke was sitting in his chair hands folded across his lap. “I thought that would would have made a more impressive attempt at your second rebellion. A play? With some actors?” He laughed. “The rebels have infiltrated the ranks of Hibiscus House and this letter is nothing but a forgery. My nephew, on the other hand, has already ordered his men to attack the throne of Jin once and killed his very own brother.” The Grand Duke pointed towards the stage. “Arrest them!”

_ “No _ .” 

The word rang loud and clear across the square. None of the soldiers moved. Shun heard the tap-tap of a wooden staff on flagstones before the crowd parted. Official Wu walked forward into a space cleared in the midst of the scholar officials.

“That account is not quite true, your Grace,” Official Wu said.  “I remember that the Fifth Prince was under house arrest within the royal palace at the time of King Ming-wang’s death. Therefore, even if you claim the rebels are connected to the Fifth Prince, how could he order such a rebellion while under heavy guard?”

The Grand Duke’s laughed again. “Lies,” he said, “These are all lies.” He pointed to Ming-song again. “These accusations are preposterous and will be discarded. Arrest them!”

No one in the square moved. 

Official Wu tapped his staff on the flagstones three times. “You are mistaken again. These accusations are about your actions, your Grace. According to the laws of the kingdom, if such accusations were be made about the King, then the judge should be the Queen Dowager. As the old Queen is dead, the judgment rests on the court  — not you.”

“Judge me?” The Grand Duke pushed himself to his feet, face red. “ _ I _ steered this kingdom through times of war! I have the official blessing of the Heavens!”

“Truly?” It was Chun Hua’s turn to stand and face the crowd. “Your Grace, if you truly have the support of the Heavens, why is it that the dragons still visit us to show their displeasure?”

“If you truly have Heaven’s blessing,” Official Wu said, “why is that within the Great Hall of Prosperity, all the mirrors have cracked?”

A murmur spread throughout the crowd. The Grand Duke’s face had turned a shade of purple. He pointed a shaking finger at Official Wu. “ _ Kill them all!” _

None one moved. The Grand Duke’s order hung in the air like an evaporated promise as the both palace and city guards, and the rebels stared at each other like ice carved figures in the winter snow. Then, General Pan peeled away from the Grand Duke’s side. He took one, two steps towards the stage, sword drawn and ready.

As if on signal, the palace guard rushed forward, some towards Official Wu and some towards the stage. Xue-li raised her sword. “Attack!” The rebels hiding as dragon boat racers rushed to intercept the soldiers before any could get close to Official Wu. Arrows rained down from the sky.

Someone in the crowd screamed. The civilians and officials in the crowds shifted and swirled together as one as they moved to the narrow laneways leading out of the square. In the middle of the square, Official Wu lifted his chin. Shun met his eyes. Official Wu nodded, briefly and stepped back before blending into the rest of the crowd.

Shun tore his eyes away to what was in front of him. There were no more soldiers near the Grand Duke.  _ This  _ was his chance. With a flick of his wrist, Shun’s sword was in his hand. He jumped off the stage and ran towards the Grand Duke.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to of-sevenseas for putting up with me, helping me name everything; Avoliot for betaing and armaada for looking over things one last time! Hope you all enjoy! One more to go! :D
> 
> This chapter has a trigger warning for attempted suicide.

The weapons of rebels and soldiers clashed together around him, but Shun only had the Grand Duke in his sight. The Grand Duke had killed Lan’s father. He had imprisoned and tortured Lan. Today was the Grand Duke’s day to die.

“General Wei _._ ”

Silver flashed in the corner of his eye. Before he could even acknowledge Pan Guo’s voice, Shun turned, his sword swinging in an upstroke. He met Pan Guo’s sword with a blow that vibrated up Shun’s arms.  

“General Pan,” Shun said. He tried to peer past Pan Guo’s shoulder but the Grand Duke was no longer in Shun’s field of vision.

“I must say, Wei _Shun_ ,” Pan Guo continued, “I was hoping that we would meet like this after I heard that you escaped. I’m going to crush you.” Under his helmet, Pan Guo’s mouth was twisted into an open sneer  — the same sneer he had worn when he had taunted Shun on that morning before he and Ming-song’s attack. Shun’s grip on his sword grew knuckle-tight. Pan Guo had hurt Lan.

“The last time we fought like this,” Shun said, “I remember that it was you who was left on the ground with a dislocated shoulder.”

Pan Guo’s eyes narrowed. “I will slit your throat like a pig.”

Shun’s eyes never left Pan Guo’s as the two circled around each other. Pan Guo was in the full armour of one of the palace guard. Shun had on a leather jerkin underneath his stage costume. As long as Shun was careful, he would be faster.

It was another flash of sunlight against the silver of Pan Guo’s sword that gave away his next move. Shun lunged to the side as Pan Guo’s sword stabbed the air beside him. The momentum forced Pan Guo to stumble forward and Shun used the opportunity to bring his sword up  —  their swords came together with a clang with Shun’s blade just inches from Pan Guo’s neck.

“Do you think that I will let you leave with your life after  — ” Shun moved forward in a flurry of sword strokes that Pan Guo could only just meet. “After what you have done to Lan?”

“After what I have done to Cheng Lan? Cheng Lan willingly gave himself up to us.” Pan Guo caught Shun’s sword in a downstroke and pushed his blade forwards. Shun was forced to take a step back. “Your lover is a whore. What do you expect from the son of a traitor?”

Rage flared white and hot within Shun. He snarled and lunged towards Pan Guo. “Lan  — Lan and Lord Cheng are some of the greatest men  — ”

Pan Guo feinted to the side but Shun caught himself and pulled back just in time to meet Pan Guo’s true attack. “The greatest of men? No, Lord Cheng was a fool.”

Shun ground his teeth together. _No._ He took a leap forward, sword swinging upwards. If he could just slide it into the chink of armour at Pan Guo’s neck then  —

As Shun landed, his foot caught in the divot created by two uneven flagstones and _twisted._ He sprawled forwards. Pain shot up his ankle. His sword flew out of his hand and scraped against the flagstones toclatter onto the ground beside him - just out of arm’s reach.

Shun looked up to find the point of Pan Guo’s sword aimed at his neck.   


“I thought you were not going to allow me to leave with my life, Wei Shun, after what I have had together with Cheng Lan?”

Shun’s chest squeezed tight. Bitter bile rose up in the back of his throat. He strained his arm towards his sword but his fingers met only rough flagstones.

Around them the crowds of civilians around them had thinned but Shun could still see the legs of the armed soldiers contrast against the bright hanfu of the rebels who had been disguised as dragon boat racers. The clash of metal against metal and the dull thump of bodies hitting the ground rang out around them. If Shun died now, in the midst of battle, what would happen to Lan?

Pan Guo raised an eyebrow. “What’s this, can’t talk?”

Shun’s fingers spasmed and clenched the empty air next to his sword. He could almost feel the hilt against his fingertips. If only he could knock the smug expression off Pan Guo’s face. If only he could inch himself just a little closer to his sword...

The touch of metal against his throat forced Shun to freeze. “You know, Wei Shun, I’ve changed my mind about slitting your throat. Cheng Lan is to appear at the Main Square at midday. I think I will give our shared lover a parting gift, and a head will be much easier to carry than a full body.” Pan Guo grinned. “Do you think he’ll thank me when I give him your head?” He pulled his sword back and lifted it above his shoulders.

Shun took his chance. He rolled to the side and his hands finally closed on the hilt of his sword. He swung it forward just in time to meet Pan Guo’s blade.

Shun pushed his sword up and sent Pan Guo back a step. He rose from the ground into a low crouch. “You are not going to get my head, Pan Guo. Not today.”

Pan Guo’s shocked expression melted into a scowl. “I am the son of a well-decorated military family. My grandfather was awarded a title of nobility for his service. You  — ” He turned his head and spat on the ground. “You’re just from peasant stock.”

“And yet here we are,” Shun said. “Of the same rank.”

“You passed the military examinations and was awarded the title of lieutenant,” Pan Guo said. “You should have known to stay in your place rather than presume you can achieve the same rank as _me_.”

“You were promoted to first tier General because of your grandfather’s record of service. I was promoted because of my merits.” Shun met Pan Guo’s eyes with an unblinking stare. “Perhaps this means I am better than you.”

The heat of the sun at burned the back of Shun’s neck, but the hot anger that had raced through him was gone. He smirked and twisted the sword in his hands so that the sunlight bounced off his blade and flashed straight into Pan Guo’s eyes.

Pan Guo hissed and stepped back, one hand reaching to shield his face. Shun used that sliver of a second to bringthe flat of his blade down on Pan Guo’s wrist. Pan Guo gasped at the blow, and his fingers opened. His sword went spinning.

Shun raised his sword to Pan Guo’s neck, eyes dark. “Why don’t you tell me again how we shared lovers.”

Pan Guo stepped back. He raised up his hands. “What? General Wei? Would you harm an unarmed man? This isn’t like you.”

“No,” Shun said, “but this is for Lan.”

Warmth splashed across Shun’s face as he slashed his blade across Pan Guo’s neck. He stabbed Pan Guo where the edge of his armour stopped just above his hip for good measure. Pan Guo let out a gasp and fell, the blood from his neck already pooling beneath him. Shun lifted his sleeve to his face and it came away with a dark stain on the green cloth.

Shun stepped away from Pan Guo’s form and looked around. Already most of the fighting had stopped. It had been mainly the palace guard who had rushed into attack. Shun could see that now. Most of the soldiers the rebels were facing wore gilded helmets. In some areas of the square, armed soldier faced armed soldier: the city guard had joined them to turn on the palace guard. In some places, even the palace guards were fighting on their side.

In front of the stage the general of the city guard bowed to Ming-song, hands clasped in front of him. With their combined forces, they now far outnumbered any of the remaining loyalist palace guard. They had won. Ming-song now needed to head to the palace itself to take the throne. They needed to find the Grand Duke and bring him, or his body  —

Shun frowned. He swept his eyes up and down the square again. There was a small group of prisoners at the side of the square, disarmed and surrounded by members of the city guard. The dead were mainly soldiers but amongst them were a few of their own men. None of the prisoners, nor any of the bodies, wore a black robe embroidered with a silver dragon or a silver guan hairpiece. Where was the Grand Duke?

“Wei Shun!” Xue-li’s voice broke through Shun’s thoughts. She was standing at the front of the square, waving her sword in the air. “Wei Shun, the _sun_.”

Shun looked up at the sky and cursed. All thoughts about the Grand Duke left his mind. The sun was nearly at its highest point. It was nearly midday. Shun spun on his heel and took off at a run towards the nearest exit out of the square. He needed to go and save Lan.

The streets of the Entertainment Quarter were a maze of narrow alleyways and blind cul-de-sacs. Shun’s heart pounded in his ears as he ran through them. Midday, the official posters that had announced Lan’s execution had said. Midday, Pan Guo had said. If Shun arrived at the main square any later than midday then Lan would be dead. Shun could not allow himself to be late.

Finally the streets wound around in a seemingly never-ending series of tight turns. The sun’s rays beat down on Shun’s head. Shun clenched his teeth and continued forward. The only blessing in this was that at least the execution was at the Main Square. The capital’s Main Square was the location of the central market, of the New Year’s and Mid Autumn festivities and any public punishments or executions. All the streets of the capital city would eventually lead to the Main Square.

Shun rounded one corner and  — _yes_  — the streets were widening before him. He sprinted forward. In front, he could see the walls open out into smooth paved stone. Nearly there  —

A figure moved into Shun’s line of sight. Shun skidded to a halt. The figure was dressed in a black robe that was embroidered with silver dragons. Sunlight glinted off his silver guan.

“Grand Duke,” Shun said.

Up close, the Grand Duke no longer looked the proud lord who had sat at the seat of honour during the Duan Wu play. His silver-streaked hair was dishevelled and coming loose from his topknot. One of the sleeves of his outer robe was torn. When the Grand Duke turned around though, he was smiling. “Ah, General, so we meet again.”

Shun stepped forward, sword out and pointed towards the Grand Duke. “How did you get here?”

“How did I get here?” The Grand Duke shrugged with an easy toss of his shoulders. “When you create such chaos as you did, General, it was easy to slip into the crowd and leave with the rest of the rabble, even clothed as I am.” His inclined his head. “Although, I must say, it was clever, hiding yourselves amongst the actors of the the play. I did not think you would attack so early in the day.”

Shun narrowed his eyes. The blade of his sword was almost against the Grand Duke’s neck and yet the Grand Duke did not seem to care. He stood, arms loose by his side. If anything, his smile had grown wider. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” The Grand Duke raised an eyebrow and then tossed his head back and laughed. “Oh my dear General, have you forgotten that the only way to leave the city is to pass through the Main Square?”

That was right. There was only one street from the city gate, and that lead straight onto the Main Square. It was a design to make the city easily defensible even if the outer walls were breached. “You think I will just turn around and let you leave?”

“Naturally, General. Of course you will step back and let me leave. Unless you’ve forgotten something?” The Grand Duke turned his head to look over his shoulder.

Shun followed the Grand Duke’s gaze. A wooden gallows had been set up in the center of the empty Main Square. Under the harsh light of the midday sun, he could see two soldiers come forward and with them a lone, bound prisoner. _Lan._

Lan’s face was drawn and pale with a deep purple bruise splashed across one eye. His hands were bound behind his back and he swayed a little as he walked. Despite this, Lan kept his head raised and his chin tilted up in defiance, even as he was was led up a short stepladder to the hangman’s noose. Lan’s shoulders rose and fell he stood at the top of the stepladder. Then, his eyes widened. _“Shun?”_

Shun forced himself to turn back to the Grand Duke.

“I am no fool, General Wei.” The Grand Duke lifted his sheathed sword and used the scabbard to push the blade Shun was holding to his neck aside. “If I pulled out my sword and fought you here, of course you would kill me. But, whilst I am no longer a young man, I think I am still able to hold out for a short period of time. They are going to hang him soon. If you take the time to kill me, will you still have time to save Cheng Lan?

Shun raised his sword again. “Order them to stop.”

“Order them to stop?” The Grand Duke raised an eyebrow. “Why should I, when you have not even asked me nicely?”

“Where will you go, even if I let you leave? Do you think the city guards will let you out  — and even if they do, Prince Ming-song will hunt you down.”

“That is why you are here, General.” The Grand Duke smiled at Shun. “The news of my nephew’s victory may have already spread through the city guard but clearly, not all the palace guard know. Certainly, these soldiers do not, and by the time they do it will be too late. However,” he paused and pressed his lips together before speaking again,  “if you accompany me to the city gates and see me out safely, I will give the orders for Cheng Lan to be safely held here until your return to the Main Square. You can fight the soldiers then to rescue him, if you would like. If you take the time to kill me, Cheng Lan will surely die.”

“Your Grace?” One of the soldiers on the gallows had noticed them. He stepped away from the stepladder, hand reaching for the hilt of his sword.

“Don’t worry,” the Grand Duke called out. “The General and I are just having a friendly conversation. We will be leaving soon, won’t we, General?”

The other soldier had lowered the noose around Lan’s neck.

Shun grit his teeth so hard, his jaw ached. Slowly he lowered his sword. “Yes,” He said. “Shall we go, your Grace?”

The Grand Duke’s smile was all teeth. “Well done, General.” he said. He reached forward and patted Shun’s arm.

“Tell them.” Shun jerked his chin towards the gallows. “Tell them to stop and I’ll make sure you stay alive until you leave the city. ”

“Shun?” Shun couldn’t help but turn around as Lan called out again. “Shun, is really that you?”  


“Lan,” Shun said, “Lan  — it is all right. I promise  — everything will be all right.”

Lan stood at the top of the gallows, rope around his neck and hands bound behind his back. He met Shun’s gaze with a steady and even stare. “Shun,” he said, “Do you love me?”

Shun’s chest ached. It wouldn’t take too long to walk to the city gates and back again. Anything to guarantee Lan’s safety. “Of course I love you, Lan. ”

Lan nodded. “If you truly love me, Wei Shun,” he said, “then kill the Grand Duke.”

“...Lan?”

Lan closed his eyes. He took in a breath and shoved his whole body backwards. His feet kicked away the stepladder underneath him. It toppled to the side, sending the soldier next to him sprawling. Lan’s body fell into the empty air and pulled the rope around his neck taut.   


Suspended, his body began to twitch.

“ _Lan!_ ”

Lan’s face was already starting to turn an unhealthy shade of red. There was no time to waste. If Shun ran up to the gallows now, maybe he could still save him.

_If you truly love me, Wei Shun...then kill the Grand Duke._

Shun swung his sword back towards the Grand Duke. Killing the Grand Duke was Lan’s last wish, but if Shun killed the Grand Duke, there was no way he would have enough time to save Lan. He needed to save Lan.

Before Shun could take one step forward, an arrow flew through the air towards Lan’s hanging figure. It sliced clean through the rope above Lan’s head. Lan fell onto the wooden base of the gallows with a low thump.

The soldier with Lan had struggled to his feet and his counterpart was running towards Shun. As they moved up two more arrows came through the air and embedded themselves into each of their chests. They crumpled to the ground.

“General!” Xue-li appeared at opposite end of the Main Square, bow in hand. “The Grand Duke!”

Shun spun around. The Grand Duke was running across the main square towards the city gates. As he ran, his outer robe embroidered with the silver dragons slipped off his shoulder and tangled around his ankles, sending him sprawling forwards on his hands and knees. Shun ran towards towards him, but the Grand Duke had already scrabbled upright and was running again, the sleeves of his inner shirt flapping in the breeze while his embroidered robe lay discarded on the ground. He was already more than halfway to the city gates. Too far now to directly attack. There would need to be another way to stop him.

Shun drew his arm back and flung his sword at the Grand Duke. The Grand Duke looked up.  His eyes bulged when he saw the sword flying in an arch towards him and he brought his arms up to shield his face even as he ran. That did nothing to stop the path of Shun’s sword. It plunged down, straight into the Grand Duke’s back. The Grand Duke stumbled as the point of the sword emerged from his chest. He fell to his knees. His head lolled back for a moment, as if he were uttering a final placation for mercy to the Heavens, before his whole body dropped forwards.  

Shun didn’t wait for the Grand Duke’s body to hit the ground. He spun around and was running in double strides towards where Lan lay on the base of the gallows.

“Lan!”

No longer strung up, the noose around Lan’s neck had loosened. Shun clambered up the wooden base and gathered Lan into his arms. He held his cheek against Lan’s face. A tiny puff of air blew out through Lan’s nose to brush his skin and Shun let out a long, shuddering breath.

Still alive. Lan was still alive.

Lan’s hands were still bound behind him. His fingers were a mangled, purple mess. Shun’s stomach flipped even as he pulled away the rope around Lan’s neck and cut through the bonds holding Lan’s wrists. Finished, he pulled Lan close against himself again. “ _Lan._ ”

“...Shun?” Lan’s voice was husky, a barely audible whisper. Shun thought for a moment he had imagined the words, but when he looked down it was really Lan looking up at him.

“Lan.” Shun said. His throat closed tight, and all the other words he wanted to say refused to be forced out.

Lan raised one of his mangled hands. The soft inside of his wrist brushed against Shun’s cheek. Shun had to lean down close to hear what Lan said. “Is he dead?”

Shun nodded. His eyes stung and he had to blink furiously to clear his vision.

“Good,” Lan said. His eyes fluttered closed.

The clattering of wooden wheels against stone made Shun look up. Ah Chung had pulled into the square seated on a wooden cart, reins in hand. He waved at Shun. “General Wei, Madam Bai has already got a physician waiting back at Hibiscus House. We shouldn’t stay here.”

Xue-li was also walking towards them. ”We had better get Cheng Lan back there, and quickly.”

Shun looked down at Lan. His eyes were still closed but the gradual rise and fall of his chest reassured Shun he was still alive. Shun swallowed against the lump in his throat and nodded. When he stood, he still held Lan tightly against his chest.  “Let’s go.”


	19. Chapter 19

Shun woke in the darkness of early morning, when the sky was still a deep blue, to visit the morning markets. At this time of day, the fishmongers were just starting to come in with the catch of the day and the butchers were already hawking their wares. It was the best time to buy the freshest of their wares.

Ming-song was crowned in a quick ceremony three day after their victory. It was too dangerous to leave Jin’s throne empty. Shun’s residence in the city had been confiscated after his mother’s arrest but as King, Ming-song had offered Shun and Lan an apartment within the palace itself before an official residence could be assigned. Shun had turned down the offer and instead found a little house he liked on the edge of the city as a temporary sort of accommodation. It had a large sun-filled courtyard, room enough for the three of them and a kitchen that had even pleased his mother’s critical eye.

By the time Shun walked to Lan’s room the sun was well over the rooftops. He carried with him a food box filled with his morning labours: a fine fish congee gently seasoned with slivers of fresh ginger and finely sliced green spring onions; and twenty silky smooth wontons.

At this time in the morning, Lan was still a mostly blanket-covered lump on the bed. He stirred as Shun pushed the door to the bedroom open, a head of long black hair emerging from the covers.  
  


“Shun?” Over the last few days, Lan’s voice had changed from a barely audible whisper to a low croak, but now it was finally starting to sound like his own again.

“Breakfast,” Shun said brightly. He unloaded the basket onto a tray before taking the tray to Lan’s bedside. He set it down on a small table there, and then Shun slid into the chair that had also been pulled beside Lan’s bed. Shun wrapped his arms under Lan’s to help him sit up. Lan’s throat was better but his hands were still swathed in bandages, each finger bound tightly to a wooden splint. It would still be weeks before they could be removed and the physicians had strictly forbidden any pressure be put on Lan’s hands while they were still healing.

“There’s fish congee and wontons to follow,” Shun said. He scooped out a spoonful of congee and blew on it gently to cool it before offering it to Lan. “This will be good for your throat.”

Lan’s eyes flickered up to Shun’s face as if searching for something before he looked down at the offered spoonful. He opened his mouth.

“Careful,” Shun said, “It’s hot.”

“What time did you wake,” Lan said after he had swallowed the food, “that you were able to cook fish congee for breakfast?”

Shun’s hands stilled in the middle of scooping another spoonful. “Would you like to try the wontons instead?”

“What time, Shun?”

Shun set the bowl of congee down and laughed. He scratched the back of his head. “Ah  — what makes you think that I cooked breakfast? I could have just gone to the kitchens just then and  — ”

“You don’t have any servants here. It is just you, me and your mother,” Lan said, “I told you and only you yesterday that I missed eating fish congee and  — don’t you think I know what your cooking tastes like?”

“Ah  — well, I know that my cooking is not as good as my mother’s.”

“No.” Lan said. When Shun offered him another spoonful of congee he leaned forward and allowed himself be fed. “I like your fish congee better, Shun.”

“Well, then, I like cooking for you.” Shun smiled. “I would be happy cooking for you for the rest of my life.”

Lan’s eyes flickered back to stare at Shun’s face. His cheeks turned pink and he huffed. “Idiot. You haven’t eaten either, have you? You need to look after yourself too. You don’t need to worry about me so much.”

“I…” Shun shrugged. “I’m not that hungry. I’ve brought plenty of fish congee. I can eat what when you are finished.”

Lan leaned forward and butted his forehead against Shun’s shoulder. “Idiot,” he said again. “You can’t be eating my leftovers. What will people think when word gets out that you are eating the leftovers of your sl — ”

“Don’t,” Shun’s hand closed over Lan’s bandaged ones. “Don’t say it. I’m not your master, Lan.”

Lan sighed. “I am still a convict slave by law, Shun.” He raised one of his hands up and Shun felt the rough scratch of linen bandages against his cheek. “I don’t mind it. I’m happy to be yours for the rest of my life.”

Shun’s fingers closed around Lan’s own. “No,” he said. “You can’t be  —”

“Shun.” Lan was still resting his forehead against Shun’s shoulder, but he turned his head so he could look up at Shun. “Shun, you’ve never treated me like a slave anyway. When we go back to Yangnan and live together on that little farm, we can do whatever we like.”

Shun reached his hand down to stroke Lan’s cheek. Lan closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. The two of them, together, on a little farm. The sweetness of that dream was so close, Shun could almost taste it.

“Will you really be happy there, Lan?” Shun said. Lan had been born into a family who had served the royal court for generations. He had been brought up to be a high-ranking Scholar Official. Ming-song had promised Shun that he would offer such a position to Lan again. “When your fingers heal…”

“Shun.” Lan placed a bandaged hand in front of Shun’s lips. “You don’t think I haven’t heard what the physicians have said? My fingers won’t heal completely. They will never gain their former strength or dexterity. Maybe I’ll be able to hold a brush pen but I will never be able to play the _qin_ again. They may not even be strong enough to help your household with simple chores.”

“No, your fingers will heal!”

“ _Shun_.” Lan lowered his hand to place it over Shun’s fingers instead. “Shun, I don’t care. This  — my hands  — they were worth it.”

 _Worth it?_ Shun shook his head. Lan had beautiful hands. Growing up, he had been the musician amongst his four brothers and the _qin_ was Lan’s instrument. Shun had never seen Lan happier than when he was playing that seven stringed zither. To take all of this away from him now — it was too much.

“Shun.” Lan sighed. “Back in the palace, I was the personal slave of the Grand Duke. Don’t you think I knew that he would find out about me visiting you? I always knew there would be a price to pay. These are my hands. I am happy to pay the price.”

“No.”

“Shun, I would have given not just my fingers but my hands or my arms or even my li— ”

Shun clapped a hand over Lan’s mouth. “No,” he said again, voice hoarse. “Please, Lan. _No.”_

Lan met Shun’s gaze. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment before Shun finally lowered his hand.

“I would rather die than lose you, Lan,” Shun said.

Lan coughed out a small laugh. “Shun,” he said, “if you die, wouldn’t you have lost me anyway? If you die, under the law, I would really have to be some else’s slave. So, it is really important that out of the two of us, you are the one who stays alive.”

“Lan  — ”

“Shun.” Lan titled his head up. His lips brushed against Shun’s. “I’m alive. We are both alive, and now, whether you like it or not, you are stuck with me for as long as I live.”

Shun took Lan’s bandaged hand and pressed a kiss against his palm. “I’m happy to be with you for as long as you want me.”

“As long as I want you?” Lan snorted out another laugh as he pressed his cheek against Shun’s shoulder again. There was something comforting about the weight of Lan’s head on his shoulder. “When we move to that little farm in Yangnan,” Lan said, “can we start another library?”

“A library?” Shun nodded. Lan had always loved reading. The library in Shun’s old house would have been confiscated after it was sealed but he could build one up again. Even if Lan couldn’t have his music, he could have his books. Shun would buy every book within the Four Kingdoms for Lan.

“Thank you, Shun.” Lan smiled up at him and it made something tighten in Shun’s chest.

“The King,” Shun said, “has asked that you see him when your hands heal.”

Lan lifted his head up. “The King? What does the King want with me?”

“You saved the both of us when you passed us the keys.” Shun shrugged in a way that he hoped looked nonchalant. “Maybe he has a reward for you.”

Lan rolled his eyes. “I already have you,” he said. “What more reward could I want? Oh, Shun.” Lan shook his head. “Don’t look like that. If it is the King’s orders that I see him then of course I will go and see him.”

Shun turned away and fumbled for the bowl of congee. Once Ming-song offered Lan a position in his court, would Lan still want to join him in little Yangnan on the very edge of the kingdom? _No_. Shun stared down at contents of the bowl he held. The most important thing was that Lan would be happy.

“Lan, more congee?”

  
  


***

King Ming-song had decreed that the Grand Duke, having ruled well during his period as Regent and led Jin through most of the years of war with Dali, would have a full duke’s burial. For his crimes against the throne, there would be no official mourning period observed. King Ming-wang though, was to have the full three-year official mourning period as befitted a king. It would be three years before any music would be allowed back into the capital and three years before the palace could be repaired or rebuilt.

As soon as Lan was deemed well enough to leave the house by the physicians attending him, the summons from King Ming-song came. Shun walked with Lan to the palace but was stopped at the outer gate. King Ming-song had sent for Lan alone and no one was permitted to accompany Lan into the King’s presence.

The mirrors that lined the Great Hall of Prosperity had not been replaced. When Lan had stood here as a Scholar-Official, the mirrors had reflected all corners of the room, making it appear much larger than it was. Now, with long cracks running down each mirror, the Hall seemed smaller, fragmented. It was almost a reflection of what had become of the kingdom of Jin.

At the front of the hall sat the newly crowned Ming-song. His outer robes were the bright gold of a King’s and red five clawed dragons were embroidered on the front of his coat and down his sleeves. Six court eunuchs stood on either side of his throne.

“Cheng Lan,” Ming-song said.

When Lan was a Scholar-Official, he would have bowed deeply in front of the King. Now as a mere convict slave he dropped to his knees into a deep kowtow, his hands clasped in front of him and his forehead touching the floor.

“Your Majesty,” he said.

“Cheng Lan,” Ming-song said again, “you may lift your head. Do you know why you are here?”

Lan slowly raised his head and knelt back on his heels. “Your Majesty?”

Ming-song leaned forward. “I owe you a debt, Cheng Lan,” he said. “When I was a prisoner of my departed uncle, you risked a great many things to sneak me the key that helped me escape. Is there anything you want in return?”

In return? Lan shook his head. He was alive. Shun was alive. He was with Shun. What more could he want?

“No?” Ming-song raised an eyebrow, “What about your freedom? Or your family?”

Lan’s mouth went dry. His father had been framed for treason and his entire extended family wrongly convicted and executed. Could he now ask for his family’s convictions to be overturned? “I  —” Lan swallowed. There were also other things he could ask for. “I  — I would like you to consider General Wei Shun.”

This time, both of Ming-song’s eyebrows shot up. “Consider…General Wei Shun?”

Lan looked down at the hands clasped on his lap. The physicians had tried all they could but Lan’s fingers had gone too long without being set after they were broken. The deformities that had formed could not be repaired. His family was dead. That was something that could not be repaired either. Even if they were cleared of all wrongdoing, even if they were promoted beyond the ranks they held in life, all the glory in the world could not bring them back.

Shun, though, was alive. Shun had grown up in Lan’s household. The idea of sitting the military exams had been thrust upon Shun by Lan’s family  — and by Lan himself. Shun did not understand or enjoy being a part of the royal court and yet Lan’s presence in his life had forced him to stumble into this mess with the royal family. Shun’s happiness was something that Lan could now do something about.

“General Wei Shun risked his life so that you may claim your throne, your Majesty,” Lan said. “I grew up with him. He is a skilled General but he does not like or understand the hidden traps within the royal court. All he wants now is to retire to a little farm.”

Ming-song pressed his lips together. “A little farm?”

“General Wei’s family were farmers before the floods of the southern rivers tore their livelihood from them,” Lan said. “General Wei has told me he would like to go back to that life.”

“I see. Is that also what you want for yourself, Lan?”

Lan bowed forward. “Please, your Majesty, if you grant Shun this then I will be satisfied.” He closed his eyes. “I would be happy to remain with Shun for the rest of my life.”

“Even as a slave?”

On his lap, Lan curled his fingers into fists. “Even as a slave.”

The sound of laughter made Lan jerk his head up. Ming-song was laughing: his shoulders shook as his hands covered his face.

“Oh  — ” The words came out slightly muffled by Ming-song’s hands. “Oh the two of _you_.”

“Your Majesty?”

“You risked your life to pass us those keys and paid for it with the strength of your hands and when I ask you what reward you would like, you ask for a favour for General Wei instead.” Ming-song shook his head. “I should have known  — I should have known.”

Lan frowned. “Your _Majesty_?”

“I apologise.” Ming-song took in a breath and lowered his hands. “Why do you think you need to speak for General Wei’s wants? General Wei asked for his reward the day before the Duan Wu festivities.” Ming-song leaned forward “What do you think he asked for, Cheng Lan?”

“Shun  — ” Lan bit his tongue. “My master has already asked for his retirement?”

Ming-song shook his head. “No. You asked for _his_ retirement. So, of course, he was the one who asked for your freedom.”

 _What?_ “Shun  — he asked for my freedom?”

”Why do you look so surprised?” Ming-song cast his eyes heavenward. “ _I_ shouldn’t have been surprised about your request after having heard General Wei’s. He asked for a pardon for you but he didn’t stop at the request for your freedom.”

Lan’s mouth was no longer dry but his throat had grown suddenly tight. “What else did he ask for  — your Majesty?”

Ming-song smiled. “What else do you think? He also asked for a full reinvestigation into the accusations against your family  — to see if the convictions can be overturned.”

Lan swallowed against the lump in his throat. “Shun…” Shun had always been too good for him.

“And so,” Ming-song continued. “It seems that this has worked out quite well.” He waved a hand.

One of the eunuch servants at the side of the room came forward, holding out a scroll of yellow silk. He smiled at Lan before he spoke, “it is written in the first year of King Ming-song’s rule that the convict slave, Cheng-Lan, has proven he has a heart that is loyal to the kingdom of Jin. As such, his crimes are pardoned. He is no longer a slave but has been reinstated as a citizen of the Jin kingdom. Do you accept this edict?”

Lan took the edict, fingers numb. “I...I thank you, your Majesty.”

A second eunuch came forward with a second yellow scroll and spoke," it is written in the first year of King Ming-song’s rule that the King Ming-wang was deceived by the hand of the scheming Grand Duke. The judgements against the convicted traitor, Lord Cheng and his family, will be re-examined. The case will be re-opened as if no convictions were made at all, and if the accused is innocent then all convictions will be cleared. Do you accept this edict?”

This time, after Lan took the edict, he pressed his forehead to the floor. This was more than he could have hoped for. His family’s name would be cleared. He would be allowed to erect memorial plaques for them without any fear that they would be torn down. He could mourn them properly.

“Are you satisfied, Cheng Lan?” Ming-song said.

Cheng Lan rested his forehead against the floor. He had his freedom, his family’s name would be cleared. He should have been satisfied but  — he had not yet had a response to his first request.

“Thank you for your mercy, your Majesty,” Lan said. “But what about General Wei?”

“General Wei?” Ming-song raised an eyebrow. “The kingdom of Jin has braved both the threat of invasion from the north and now the battle between myself and my defeated uncle. The court has been torn apart under my uncle’s rule. I need good, loyal men to build Jin up, Chen Lan. Men like General Wei. Yet, you ask to remove him from my court.”

Lan’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, your Majesty,” he said.

“I could consider your request, Cheng Lan.” Ming-song leaned forward. “If I were to allow General Wei to retire to a little country farm, who would take his place?

“Your...Majesty?”

“It is true, that with Dali defeated and my uncle removed, Jin has less need for military officials and far more need for talented civil officials,” Ming-song said. “I remember you had a proposal when you came to the city ten years ago to sit your civil service examinations. Schools, you said, for the rich and the poor, freely available in every town and village. What use is selecting our officials based on merit if we miss some of the best candidates just because they lack education?”

Lan knelt in front of the King. The two yellow silk edicts he held were heavy in his hands. He remembered saying those things. He had been young once. Far too young and full of dreams.

“I want to build a court filled with the best officials this kingdom can bring forward.” King Ming-song said. “I want you to help find them, Cheng Lan. I want you to help train them.”

A third eunuch stepped forward. There was no gold scroll in his hands but instead he held a tray. On it lay a single item: a Mandarin Square embroidered with a golden pheasant.

Lan’s chest squeezed so tight he felt like it would burst. This was the rank he had held as a scholar official before his family had been arrested.

“I know that you achieved a higher rank in the civil service examinations,” Ming-song said, “But all first tier officials are tied to their ministries in the capital. To set up schools around the kingdom for the poor and the rich will need you to be more mobile. Of course, if you succeed, you will be promoted in due course.”

Lan stared at the Mandarin square that was presented to him. He could almost feel the fine lines of that embroidery underneath his fingers. If he took it, he could achieve this dream that had been within him ever since he had started studying for the civil service examinations. He could offer hundreds of children the opportunity of an education.Children like who Shun had been.

 _But Shun._ Shun did not want to be part of the court. All hewanted was to retire to a simple farm. Even if Lan said yes to this posting, Shun did not deserve to be uprooted, to follow Lan while he travelled around the kingdom setting up his dream. If Shun did not follow Lan, then the two of them would be apart again.

“I thank you, Your Majesty but….I need some time to think.”

“Some time to think?”  
  
Lan’s answer was another bow. He needed time to talk to Shun.

“Very well. You may go and think about it then, Cheng Lan.” Ming-song waved his hand in dismissal. “General Wei came with you to the palace, did he not? I believe he is waiting outside. Will you please send him in when you walk out? I need to talk to him about your...little request.”

Lan stood. His stomach churned  as he bowed and slowly backed out of the hall. Ming-song was going to grant Shun his retirement and what then? How could Lan say yes to Ming-song’s offer when all it meant was that he would have to leave Shun again?

  
  
  


***

Lan had barely any time to talk to Shun when he reached the front steps of the palace. Ming-song had sent one of the palace eunuchs with him and as soon as he had seen Shun, he had announced the royal request for Shun’s presence.

Shun had furrowed his eyebrows at Lan, but all Lan could do was shake his head. They could only talk once Shun was out.

Lan waited. Passers-by stopped and stared at Lan, a man with a slave’s braid but holding two official royal edicts, before the palace guards waved them away. The sun was at its highest point when he had walked out of the palace but now it was moving to dip below the rooftops and Shun had still not emerged. What could they be talking about that was taking so long?

“Lan?”

Lan looked up. _Finally_. Shun was walking down the steps towards him with something tucked under his arm. Lan turned his gaze to what Shun was holding. He started. Shun was holding a helmet adorned with two peacock feathers. Only first tier Generals in active service would be allowed to wear peacock feathers in their helmets.

Lan stepped forward. “The King  — he has called you back into service?” That couldn’t be right. Lan had made his request and Ming-song had all but promised that he would grant it!

Shun lifted up his helmet. It shone under the midday sun. “The King commissioned me to perform a task,” he said.

Lan’s hands tightened into fists by his side. “Has he really?”

Shun shrugged. “It seemed like an important duty,” he said. “The King tells me there is this civil official who needs protection.”

This was outrageous. Shun was not just being recalled to serve in court but _this_  — “You are a first tier ranked General!” Lan said, “The King is asking you to return to serve Jin by playing _nursemaid_ to a civil official?”

Shun met Lan’s eyes. The corner of his lip twitched. “If you put it that way, I suppose.”

“If I put it  —” Lan shook his head. “And you said _yes_?”

“It is a difficult thing to refuse a royal request. Most who do find themselves quickly without a head, and you have pointed out to me the importance of me staying alive.” Shun grinned. “It seems like an easy enough task. How much trouble could one little Scholar-Official be?”

Lan scowled and looked away. “But  — you said that you don’t want to be part of the royal court any more. I thought you wanted to retire? To ask you to return in such a humiliating way...”

“Lan.” Shun tilted his head until he caught Lan’s eyes again. “Lan, I really don’t mind so much. The burden of being a nursemaid depends on who I will be playing nursemaid to. After all, it seems like this Scholar-Official has been granted an important task. He is, I am told, travelling around the kingdom, helping to rebuild villages and...set up schools for the common children?”

Lan froze. He looked up at Shun, eyes wide and incredulous. “What  — what did you say?”

Shun’s grinned widened. “Which part? That I don’t mind so much? Or  — ” Lan’s eyes narrowed. Shun was definitely laughing at him. Lan could see it in the way he bit his bottom lip and the hint of a shake that was running through his shoulders. “Or the part about setting up schools for commoners?”

Lan’s mouth opened and closed and opened again. “But  — ” he finally managed to force out, “but I haven’t even said yes!”

“Oh.” Shun’s face fell. “You….weren’t going to say yes?”

“No, I  — ” Lan stepped forward. In two strides he was in front of Shun and could take Shun’s hands. He entwined their fingers together. As always, Shun’s fingers were warm beneath his own. “I was wanting to talk to you first. What about your little farm, Shun?”

“My little farm?” Shun looked down at Lan. “Lan, that doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does!” Lan squeezed Shun’s hands. “Isn’t that what you have always wanted?”

“Lan.” Shun shook his head, “The little farm is just a dream that maybe one day I’ll have. It isn’t important. My father was a farmer but I grew up in your father’s household. Your father always said that the greatest honor for a man was to find a way he could serve the kingdom.”

“Shun.” Lan found his tongue too thick and heavy to formthe words he wanted to say.

“You know Lan, I have never tried farming. How do I know I will not hate it?” Shun leaned down until their foreheads and noses touched. “The schools were your dream, have been your drive for a long time. I think that they would be a good way to serve the kingdom.”

Lan nodded, mute.

“Maybe one day,” Shun said, “when we are old and grey together, we can live on a little farm. We’ll have have chickens, maybe a cow, and,” he grinned, “a whole host of farmhands to help run the place. But now,” Shun’s thumb brushed against Lan’s bottom lip, “I would rather travel through Jin with you.”

Lan looked up into Shun’s eyes. Shun gazed back at him, eyes warm and earnest. _I would rather travel through Jin with you._ Lan shoulders felt suddenly lighter.

“It would be a good way to serve the kingdom.” Lan said. “This is the only way we can make sure that no one worthy misses out on a place in court just because of lack of education.” Shun’s arms snaked around Lan waist. Lan smiled back up at him. “We should start with the northern villages. They are are closest to Dali’s borders and would have been the most affected by the war. Then then this way — ” Lan paused. There was a question that needed to be asked but a whole flock of butterflies had suddenly exploded in his stomach. “This way we can get back to Yangnan by spring.”

Shun’s brow furrowed. “Get back to Yangnan by spring?”

Lan looked up at Shun. His fingers brushed Shun’s cheek. “We should get back to Yangnan in time for New Year’s dinner with your mother,” he said.

“Mmm,” Shun said. “But if you are busy, I am sure she would understand that for one year  — ”

“Shun.” Lan curled the fingers of his other hand in the softness of Shun’s hanfu top and tugged Shun so they were even closer together. When he looked up, it was Shun’s eyes, bright and wide gazing down at him. “Shun, don’t you think that Yangnan in the spring would be perfect for a wedding?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH thank you all for joining me in this journey. I hope you all had a great time and found the conclusion satisfying.
> 
> Big thanks to everyone who helped me along in this endeavour: Avoliot for being an awesome beta reader, of-sevenseas who patiently helped me research anything I nagged her about, Tammaiya who let me bounce ideas off her (even though she hasn't read any of this!) and armaada for helping me look through the final chapters. And thankyou all for being great readers and supporting me through this!
> 
> My next project is a story featuring Mingyu in Xu with Huiqing. Stay tuned/subscribe to me if you want to be updated when that story launches!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading. I'm on [tumblr](http://gixininja.tumblr.com). Please come and say hi :)


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